Waiting in the Void
by MimiLuvs16
Summary: "When you have all of the time in the world, you have no choice but to spend that time inside of your head. Memories begin to roam free. Regrets begin to resurface. Fear is able to breed. Slivers of hope are prayed for. You have nothing but time." The fourth story in the "Eric and Nasira" pentalogy. Takes place six years after "Trying For Redemption".
1. Prologue: Purgatory

***enters the premises. immediately ducks and miss being struck by bottles and tomatoes***

 **I know. I know. I'm so far behind, when it comes to my updates. I'm sorry!**

 **LOL!**

 **But for real, I am sorry for not updating within the past... Year... A year and some months. *grimaces* Jeez...**

 **Goodness, what can I say about my lack of updating and writing?**

 **Um, life got in the way. Definitely-definitely got in the way. Let's see, I ended up being promoted at my job and my new job role is time-consuming. Then I ended up getting writer's block, which put a damper on things. So, there's that.**

 **As mentioned in the summary, WITV is the fourth story in the "Eric and Nasira" pentalogy (I should really think of something that's creative, when it comes to the name of the series), which means that this story is the second-to-last tale. I am still in the 'revising and typing' process, so I will be updating bit-by-bit, for this story.**

 **When it comes to this story, I am doing something that's different from my other published tales. The most obvious change is the fact that this story will entirely be in Eric's POV. The second thing is this story takes place six years (to be precise, six years and seven months) later, from the last story ("Trying For Redemption"). The other difference is the fact that this tale will have a lot of flashbacks (from Eric's POV, of course). So, whenever you see _italicized_ passages, these are the flashbacks and these scenes are transition (from one memory to another memory) without warning. So, be prepared.**

 **Now that's out of the way, let's get to business, shall we?**

 **RATING : RATED M FOR 'MATURE'/NC-17**

 **WARNINGS : THIS FEATURED STORY CONTAINS SUBJECT MATTER THAT IS EXPLICIT AND ADULT-ORIENTED. CHILDREN, UNDER THE AGE OF 16 (I'm being generous here) SHOULDN'T READ. ADULT THEMES. ADULT LANGUAGE. STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT. VIOLENCE. ABUSE. MENTIONS OF DEATH. MENTIONS OF DRUG USE. **

**Once again... I'm sorry for the _looonnngggg_ delay. **

**I'll try to keep up.**

 **Thank you, guys. For reviewing. For sending me private messages and encouraging me. For following me or for following my stories.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Footsteps bounced off of the cinderblock-paved walls and clumsily collided with each other, making half-formed echoes stir inside of the cell.

"…No…No. No. No. No…" his lips spewed as his sock-covered feet continued to pound the asphalt.

 _"Eric…"_ He always believed that her voice held the sweetest cadence, when she always spoke his name. Especially, when her plush lips would moan his name.

 _"…Eric!"_ Or, when she would force his name from out of her mouth, in between the waves of laughter.

A spasm ripped through his torso, which started in the center of his broad chest and it settled into the pit of his stomach. The harsh sensation caused his feet to abruptly end their mission. A high-pitched moan escaped his mouth as his fingers lightly scratched at his cotton A-line tank top. The artificial, citrus fragrance from the fabric greeted his nose.

 _"—You're terrible at this…"_

 _Her dark brown eyes landed on him, displaying a mild sense of offense. But it was her lips that told Eric her true opinion. The corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, forming a soft smile. The ceiling's deep, orange-tinted light gave her an ethereal glow. "I'm…" Her eyes stared at the crumpled fabric that was tangled up in her hands. He was sure that it was one of his thermal shirts. "…not_ _ **that terrible**_ _…" Her fingers unfurled the recently dried shirt. "…I just don't have the patience, when it comes to fold—_

 _"It doesn't have to be…" He pushed his large form from off of the doorframe. Eric entered the laundry room. As he made his way over to his wife, he continued to stare at her while she attempted to 'fold his clothes'. "…let me show you…" A thrill ripped through his body as he lightly pressed his front to the back of her curvy form. Another pleasurable sensation coursed through his body as he relished her body's warmth, as well as, the gentle and sweet fragrance that came from her. His brawny arms trapped her in between the folding table and his body. "…Now—_

 _ **"BBBBLAM!"**_

 _ **"BAH-BLAM!"**_

 _ **"BBBBLAM!"**_

 _ **"OH MY GOD…"**_

 _ **"**_ _Okay-okay-okay-okay-okay… Put pressure on her—_

 _"Keep her talking—_

 _"La…La…Lou…L-Luke! L-L-L-Luke! Lou—_

"No! No!" his lips screamed out. His blue-gray eyes snapped open and began to stare wildly in his cell. In that sophisticated cage that he was forcibly placed in. He grunted his displeasure. "No! No! No!" His fingernails scratched at his temples. "No!"

The memories were still fresh in his brain. He could still smell the sulfuric scent of the gunpowder. His skin still felt the combination of the summer's heat and the coldness that came from his shock. His heart recalled the heavy pounding and the fast pace of its beats. His chest still felt the heavy weight while his lungs still felt the tight squeezing. His mind's eye still saw the small crowd of bystanders, who were crowded around the immobile body that was laying on the sidewalk, by her jeep. There was the trio of strangers who were kneeling beside the person, each of them shouting instructions to each other. His eyes remembered spotting the pair of bare legs that were sticking out of the small huddle of people, laying limp against the sidewalk. He recognized the bright red sneakers that covered the pair of feet. Briefly, his brain brought up the memory of issuing the pair to her, as a birthday gift.

Eric lunged forward, in his cell and attempted to chase away the offending thoughts that were polluting his mind. "…No! No! I don't want to think—No! No!" he growled. His hands gathered up tufts of the soft curls that were gathered on the top of his head. His fingers violently yanked, causing the man-made knot to unfurl and to loosen his hair. Pin prick-like pain was released from his scalp, a plea for his fingers to stop. But, the enraged man continued to pull. He continued to attempt to chase away the terrible thoughts.

" _Daaa-Dee!"_

'Zee—

The voice came from behind him. The Dauntless leader quickly spun around, causing a friction burn to sting at the soles of his feet. His eyes frantically twitched in their sockets, in search of his daughter's presence. "Zee? Baby? Where are you, baby?" he softly announced into his cell. He stared around his dismal cell in hopes of spotting his four year-old.

His logic whispered to him that it was impossible. No one was inside of the jail cell with him. Tear-filled eyes surveyed the empty, other half of his temporary abode. He stared at the cinder-block wall that faced him. 'I'm losing my mind,' he silently cried. His eyes focused on the bed that was a few inches away. 'I'm losing my mind.' He made steps over to the mediocre pallet that was wrapped in a sheet of green plastic. "I'm losing it…' He climbed onto his bed and lain down. Tears spilled from his eyes as he viewed the ceiling.

" _Eric…"_

He heard her phantom voice as she whispered his name.

"… _Eric… I…" she gasped._

 _He didn't need for Nasira to tell him. He knew that she approved of his new tattoos. Her feeling was smeared all over her face. Her expression, the glossy eyes, the glow that came from her skin and the smile from her lips, told him._

" _I… I…" she stuttered. She stammered a few more times before she clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes suddenly closed and a deep inhale was sucked through her nose._

 _An awkward wave of silence managed to waft through their room. It was at this point, when a seed of doubt began to sprout in his conscience. "B—_

" _I love it," she blurted out. Her eyes opened and a pair of tears finally spilled. Her dark brown irises focused on his own eyes._

' _Wha—_

" _I-I-I… Love it. I love it—I mean, 'them'." A wavy giggle escaped from her lips. "I love them, Eric." She nodded her head. "I love them." Her right set of fingers extended in front of her._

 _A millisecond later, his left shoulder felt a gentle touch from her fingertips. The soft skin lightly grazed the tender flesh that was still raw from being prodded by needles. The pleasurable-yet-stinging sensation was lifted off of his shoulder and it traveled to his collarbone. The ridges from her nails accidentally lightly scraped against the artwork, a spot that was still sensitive. A sharp inhale was made from his nostrils._

 _She immediately withdrew her observing fingertips while her brown eyes focused on his face. "Does it hurt?" she asked, sounding alarmed._

 _Eric nodded his head. "But… It's not too bad," he confessed._

 _Nasira eyed the markings again. "I love you," she declared with a smile._

" _I love you…" It was spoken from her lips as the night spilled over them and in their bedroom._

 _His eyesight tried to make out her face, by using the limited lighting that was presented from the street lights that were outside of their window._

" _I love you…" The declaration came in the form of a gasp. Her lips held a soft smile while her eyes remain shut and a deep crease was imbedded in her brow. "I love… You. I-I-I… Lah-love you, Eric. Err-Eric… I love you…"_

His mind released a torrential downpour of memories. With each reflection, he felt his sense of despair grow. The soles of his hands sought after his awaiting face. Fingers tightly and painfully gripped at his face, covering his eyes. The cell began to fill up with the sounds of weak sobs.


	2. Chapter One: Easy, Does it

**Author's Note:** **Hello, again.**

 **I know that I've promised some of my readers, via correspondence, I was going to update and upload on next Tuesday. Well, things turned better than I expected and I was able to upload this new chapter today.**

 **Now, in regards to uploading another new chapter next week? I don't know about that one.**

 **As of this weekend, I am packing up to move. Temporarily, I will be staying with a relative who doesn't own Wi-Fi, much less than know what it is. So, the only way I will be uploading these chapters is through my job's computer. But I am going to try to do it.**

 **In this particular chapter, there is a few flashbacks (which is highlighted in italics). Hopefully, you all will be able to read it.**

 **Please rate, review or just drop me a comment to say 'Hello'.**

 **Thanks to the people who've left a review and rated my story.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **RATING** **: RATED M FOR 'MATURE'/NC-17**

 **WARNINGS** **: ADULT THEMES. ADULT LANGUAGE. MENTIONS OF DEATH. VIOLENCE. NOT SUITED FOR CHILDREN/MINORS UNDER THE AGE OF 16. COMPLETELY A/U.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't own any of this shit, except for the o/cs. The rest belonged to Veronica Roth.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: "Easy, does It."**

 ***~oMLo~***

 _Blue eyes blankly stared at the set of hands that were presented before him. They didn't take in the appendages' current, battered conditions. Both hands contained knuckles which were inflamed and bruised. The pale skin was decorated with scabbed-over scratches and nicks. The fingers were displaying signs of battery, as well. Some of their flesh were marred with slowly healing wounds and the joints were slightly disarranged, signs that were poorly treated over a period of time._

 _Despite the possible pain that was filtering through his hands, his mind wasn't focused on them. His mind, as well as, his eyes weren't concentrating on the dull throbbing sensation. Nor, was the former faction leader silently acknowledging the numbness that were plaguing his appendages, due to brittle cold November weather._

 _Instead…_

 _Those lucid, blue-grayish eyes were gazing at the vial that were cradled in the palms of his hands. His orbs ogled at the glass tube, whose redness shimmered in the dull light that came from the street lamp that was above him._

 _'_ _I won it…' his drug-starved brain muttered. '…I won this, fair-fucking-square!'_

 _Silently, he recalled the lengths that he had to go through, in order to obtain this blessed reward. The former Dauntless leader recalled the faces of the men that were subjected to his brutality. His hands were still trembling since the end of his last bare-knuckled, bout. His ears held a faint, consistent ringing which came from the raucous cheering and the jeering that were spewed by the crowd of spectators._

 _"_ _What's the matter, old man?! Your knees aren't what they used to be?!"_

 _Alarmed by the sudden appearance of Fix's face in his mind, fright struck him. A short, harsh yelp escaped him and he jolted backwards. Both boot-clad feet stumbled across the pavement and through the neglected debris. A hard and unmerciful force collided against the back of his left foot. The action caused Eric to lose his balance and to fall backwards. His arms frantically sliced through the air, in an effort to try to regain his balance. Instead, he gave his upper body the momentum to slightly twist to the left as he continued to fall to the asphalt. A harsh grunt escaped him as he made impact. A dull, gray light flashed before his eyes just as pain tore through his left knee and into his right palm. As the light started to disappear, he was quickly reminded of the bottle of Wept's existence._

 _'_ _N-N-N—_

 _"_ _No," he whimpered. His eyes peered down at his hand, which was planted palm-down onto the dirty ground. He detected a wetness on his palm, as well as, a stinging sensation. 'Shhh—No!' He shook his head in disbelief. "No-no-no-no…" he whimpered with despair. He lifted his hand from off of the sidewalk. "…nonononononononono…" Both his lips and his brain cried out. Eric turned his hand over and displayed his palm to his disbelieving eyes. "…nononononono…"_

 _He took in the infuriating sight. His cold and pale palm was now soiled with exposed Wept and shards of red glass._

 _"…_ _nonononono…" he whimpered._

 _Eric watched a tiny red dot form in his palm that immediately transformed into a thin, red line. The thin streak of blood slithered across the wet skin and slipped in between his index and middle fingers._

 _"…_ _nononono…"_

 _Trembling fingertips reached down into his injured hand and carelessly brushed aside the jagged pieces of glass. His racing mind hoped that there was something to salvage. Perhaps, there was a shard of glass that was large enough to carry, at least, one drop of the Wept. It became apparent to Eric that he had completely destroyed his chance of getting high._

 _"…_ _no—No! No! Nah—FUCK! FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK! FUCK!" he shouted into the air. His meaty hands formed into fists and he pounded the air with them. "FUCK!" He looked away from his stained hands and he stared straight ahead, towards the exit of the alleyway that he was currently inside of. His eyesight landed on the trio of men that were about twenty-eight yards away from where he was hiding. The men were standing in front of a trash can that contained a small fire. Each one of them held their hands in front of themselves, attempts at keeping warm._

 _'_ _More,' his conscience moaned. His heart began to race as his spirit warmed up to the idea. 'More.' His head gently nodded, in agreement. Then he gazed down at the wound that was in his right hand. His left set of fingers gingerly inspected his injuries. After giving his hand the once-over, Eric lifted himself from off of the ground and then dusted himself off. Eric emerged from the alley with a renewed sense of energy. The possibility of collecting another score of Wept caused his battered body to hum with excitement._

 _Judging from the twinges of sharp pain that was stabbing at the crown of his head, he needed to settle down his craving soon. It has been two days since his last fix and the symptoms of Wept withdrawal were beginning to take place. It has been rough for him, in regards to getting a decent dose of the stuff. His usual connect was now languishing in a Dauntless prison, after having his establishment raided by the faction's patrol. Eric was on his way to the abandoned-looking townhouse, when he noticed the police blockade in the neighborhood. In fear of getting spotted by his former subordinates, the disgraced leader pulled his hood further down his face and made sure his tattoos were covered. Then, he made his smooth and unknown getaway from the spectacle._

 _The former leader and Wept addict knew of another location that carried and sold the Wept, but it was a place that posed a danger for him. After all, the distribution location was situated in the middle of a factionless colony. The last thing Eric wanted to happen was to enter the lawless village of the displaced and be recognized by one of their residents._

 _However, his stance changed, when he felt his world become unraveled, once the staggering effects of sobriety kicked in. The memories of his life, which occurred prior to his relapse began to surface: the murder of Fix, of his temporary stay in The Land, the punishment inside of The Oculus, the depression and the sense of embarrassment that came along with being demoted. His feet, then, took him into the colony, where he found the supplier. Eric didn't even wait until he was out of the faction-less land and in a safer place, before he doused his eyes with the drug. He was desperate to chase away those memories and the toxic emotions that came along with them._

 _After his sobriety was beaten down and he was wading through his ocean of good vibrations, he felt a strange sense of relief. Despite being in a place where mercy wasn't shown to anyone, he was in peace. No one in this factionless sector knew his identity or the fact that he was a disappointment. He wasn't known as a murderer. He wasn't 'Eric Coulter', in these parts. He was considered to be another faction-less, social reject. He felt as if he was in a place that felt more like home than any of the apartments that he owned._

 _Battered boots struck the cracked pavement with a purpose, now. He badly needed a dose. If he needed to throw himself into another bare-knuckle brawl in order to get another round, then he would. But first, he wanted to take his chances by asking any of the three men, if they had a vial on them._

 _"_ _Daa-dee!"_

 _'_ _Luc—_

 _Eric came to an abrupt stop, once he heard Lucien's voice, calling out for him. In his mind, the image of his son's smiling face came up._

 _"_ _Daa-dee!"_

 _"_ _Luke?" mumbled Eric. His eyes scanned the poorly-lit lot in search of his son. When he found nothing but garbage and discarded property, he spun around and searched for Lucien._

 _"_ _Daa-dee!"_

 _This time, the toddler's voice was so close that it could've been whispered into his ears. He began to feel the fringes of panic. He turned around again and stared out into the darkness. "Luke!"_

 _"_ _Daa-dee!" Lucien chuckled._

 _"_ _Damn it, Luke! Come out here!" he shouted into the night air. His voice held a slight tremble._

 _"_ _Who-in the-hell is that dude yelling at?"_

 _The inquiry had come from one of the men that was standing in front of the trash can._

 _'_ _Lemme asked—_

 _The former leader made a few steps in their location. "Hey! Have you seen a little boy around here?!" he shouted across the parking lot._

 _He watched the trio of men glanced at each other with confusion etched on their faces. After a short moment of silently mulling over, the man that stood in the center responded to Eric's inquiry. "No, man!" he shouted, as his head mildly shook. "It's just us! No kids!"_

 _'_ _No…' Eric peered into the lot again. '…he's here.' He slowly spun in the spot that he was standing in, looking for his son. 'He's here… He's fucking here—_

 _"_ _Dude, no one is here—_

 _"_ _He's here!" Eric shouted towards the men. "He's here! I just heard him!"_

 _There was a smattering of laughter from the men. Seconds later, there was a "Whatever you say, man!"_

 _Eric glimpsed at the men. They proceeded to ignore him and converse amongst themselves. He was aware that they might've thought that he was a nut or a druggie, who was going through a tweaking moment. 'Fuck them,' he muttered. He knew that he heard Lucien's voice. It was loud and clear as a bell. 'He was here,' his brain muttered, 'he was here'. He scanned the lot again. 'He's here. I know that…' There was a mental snapshot of his son, along with the image of Nasira. "Nass," his lips murmured. 'Where is she? How-in the-hell did he get out here, when he's supposed—?_

 _He didn't complete his thought. His body made the decision for him. Or rather, his feet made the decision of his next move for him. He broke out into a sprint. He left the lot with the sounds of faint laughter beating against his retreating back. His dirtied and battered boots led him through blocks that has been neglected since the end of the Great War. The neighborhoods that were now occupied by factionless, who were living in dilapidated buildings and roaming the streets for survival. He ended up exiting his temporary sanctuary and returning to the place, where he escaped with the grace of a coward, Chicago._

 _Eric was winded and covered in blistering heat, by the time he arrived to his destination. His chest felt like it was on fire while nausea held a firm grip on his stomach. The adrenaline that was running through his body was making him feel like his heart was going to break out of his chest. Blurred vision eyed the apartment door while loud, ragged breaths painted the wood. His right hand lifted off of the door's post and its meaty fist doled out a few rushed knocks._

 _'_ _Luke. Please be alright. Please, be—_

 _The sound of a turning doorknob caused his mind to quiet down. Every bit of his body became taut with anticipation for what was about to happen, despite not knowing anything. He didn't know whether Nasira was going to see him and cast him away. Or, she was going to break down and beg him to stay. He remembered the last the last time he saw her. He was lain up in a prison infirmary with his back ripped to shreds like confetti, which was three months ago._

 _"_ _Eric?!"_

 _The former faction leader was lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realized that she was now standing before him. Slightly surprised, Eric jerked himself into an upright position and took a step backwards, away from the doorframe. His conscience admonished him for being careless._

 _Believing that he was about to leave, Nasira stepped out of her apartment. "Eric…Please," she said softly as her right hand extended in front of her. She reached out and grabbed his left forearm. "Please… Don't…"_

 _He tore his attention away from those teary, brown eyes of hers and he glimpsed down at her investigating hand. It led to his eyes to travel and roam. He came to a sudden halt, when his eyes locked on the round and protruding stomach that was covered by a blue robe._

 _"…_ _go—_

 _"_ _You're pregnant?" he blurted out. He peered at her face. At that moment, he noticed that she was clearly showing the signs of being in her current condition. Her complexion glowed with good health. Her cheeks were chubbier while her nose and lips were slightly swollen. He watched her lips slightly part and—_

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RICC!"_** _she aggressively groaned out in pain._

 _Eric glimpsed at Nasira as his left hand frantically slipped into a glove. 'Oh,' he whimpered as a mild case of shock raced through him. His widened eyes took in the sight that was presented to him. He now understood why Nasira was screaming. His lips slightly parted and proceeded to tremble. "I… I-I-I-I-I… The baby's head looks like—_

 _"_ _It's about to crown?" asked Lana, the emergency operator who was talking to both Eric and Nasira, via his cell phone's speakerphone._

 _"_ _I-I-I-I thin-ink so," he answered._

 _"_ _ **"**_ _ **YES! SHE IS!"**_ _screamed the expecting mother._

 _"_ _Daa-dee!" It was Lucien. He was calling for Eric from his bedroom. Nasira's screaming for Eric's help was the reason why he was awaken._

 _The frazzled father looked away from Nasira and looked towards the bedroom's door. "I-I-I-I'll be there in a minute, Lou-Luke! J-Just… Play with your toys!" he instructed to the child. Milliseconds later, he heard the sounds of Lucien's toys going off. 'Good. Okay. T-That's hand-handled...' He stared down at Nasira, who was still responding to the pain with her panting and groaning. '...Oh...Shhh-it.'_

 _"_ _Alright ma'am, I want you to take a deep breath in and I want you to hold it. And for ten seconds, you're going to bear down and push," instructed Lana._

 _"_ _I know what to do!" whined Nasira, in between squeaks._

 _"_ _Okay, ma'am. That's good!" the operator announced. "That's good! Okay, Sir… when she begins to push, I want you to count—_

 _"_ _I got it! I-I-I… Got it!" he informed the woman. "I understand!" He glanced at his hands and remembered his task._

 _"_ _Okay, ma'am… Take in a deep breath… Now…_ _ **Push!**_ _" ordered the operator._

 _A booming and sonorous growl shot out of the woman's body and covered the bedroom's walls._

 _As he slid his right hand in the latex glove that he took out of the first aid kit, he observed her inflamed sex. He silently counted. Once he reached the ten-count, he placed a gently hold on her left thigh. "Nassy, stop! Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop!" he told her in a soft, but authoritative tone. He listened to her ferocious groans wither down to a series of whimpers._

 _"_ _Very good… How is she doing, Daddy?" the emergency operator asked, a few seconds later._

 _"_ _She's going great," he reported. His right hand caressed her lower back._

 _"_ _How's the baby doing?" Lana asked._

 _Blue eyes peered at the sight of entry and observed. "All I see is a little bit of hair. Um, I think had seen a little bit more, when Nassy was pushing, but she had gone back inside, when she stopped pushing," he informed the operator._

 _"_ _Okay… That's normal. Baby Girl needs for her mama to push a few more times in order to get her out for good. Now… Ma'am, let's go again. On the count of three, start pushing. Sir, count those ten seconds out loud, this time, okay? Ready? One… Two… Thra-ree! Nassy, I need you to push! Push-push-push!"_

 _A few seconds later, the bedroom was littered with Nasira's groans. His sight landed on her sex again. He watched the top of their daughter's head push past her mother's labia. A spike of fear pierced his soul as he felt his stomach convulsed. His brain's train of thought stammered. He lost the count. Instead, he shouted, "The-The-T-T-The head! The h-head—_

 _"_ _It's out?!"_

 _"_ _I… Ahh… I… Ugh…Ahck-Ah, just the top! Just the top of it!" he stammered._

 _"_ _Okay, so…"_

 _Eric watched Nasira lift her hands up from the hardwood floor and watched her settle onto her knees. His sense of concern had gone into overdrive. His heart released a few hard thumps against his chest. "B-Baby?" he murmured._

 _There were a few garbled words from her. "…be comfortable," she slurred._

 _"…_ _let's get started! Ma'am, let's take a deep breath in…"_

 _Eric listened to Nasira's hard wheezing inhalation while he watched her shoulders raised into the direction of the ceiling._

 _"…_ _Annnnnddddd… Push!"_

 _There was another angry-sounding growl to go along with another fierce push. His eyes stayed drawn to the epicenter that was in between her thighs. He was just a helpless spectator for the scene that was unfolding in front of him. He took in the scene as a small, dome-shaped object peek from in between her thighs. He watched as that tiny shape became longer, bigger and wider. 'Oh…Oh, God,' his brain whimpered as he watched their child's head come into his line of sight._

 _A thought-disrupting shriek came from his children's mother and it caused the former leader to flinch._

 _"_ _How's it going?" asked Lana._

 _"_ _Head's… Out," Nasira panted. "Oh! God, this burns!" she groaned, seconds later. A streak of ragged, angry-sounding pants came from her frame._

 _"_ _Okay. Okay. That's good, Mommy," the emergency medical tech declared. "How are you feeling, Sir?"_

 _'_ _Like my heart is about to burst out of my fucking chest,' he silently confessed. Eric released a few shaky breaths before he answered with an "I'm… Oh God, I'm fine"._

 _Lana giggled. "Okay." There was a sigh. "Okay, Ma'am. Let's make another push. Take a deep breath in… Now… Push!"_

 _As he counted, Eric became a witness to another one of her pushes. 'Oh God,' he silently whimpered._

 _Nasira spread her knees on the blanket that was slightly under her knees and then she hunched over. Seconds later, her hands reached in between her thighs. Her right hand cradled the crown of their child._

 _Blue eyes widened in alarm. "Baby, what are you doing?" he asked. She ignored him. She kept pushing with a series of feral-sounding groans. He eyed her hands and their movements. He soon came to the conclusion that she was going to help their child's neck and shoulders slide past the entry of the birth canal. A wave of coldness and numbness covered his skin while he felt light-headed._

 _"_ _She's almost here!" growled Nasira, as she aided in her daughter's expulsion._

 _"_ _The baby is almost there?" Lana asked._

 _"_ _Y-Yes!" cried Nasira._

 _"_ _How much of the baby is out? Can anybody…?"_

 _Eric found his voice. "The head and the shoulders are out!" he reported, his voice adding a twinge of a squeal._

 _"_ _Well, it sounds like all she needs to do—_

 _The operator's voice was drowned out by Nasira's heavy moan._

 _Eric peered down at their baby whose arms and upper torso was free. "Oh my…" he cried out. His chest filled up with pressure and that sensation that clouded in head grew. The sounds of Nasira's crying, along with their baby's cries were muffled in his ears. His blurred, tear-soaked vision stared at the squalling child as she stretched out her surprisingly long limbs. There were more muffled sounds, but he continued to view both mother and child. He stared at Nasira as she pulled the fabric of her nightgown away from her shoulders and held onto their baby. He saw Nasira's red, glossy eyes peer at the chest of drawers that was behind him and then at him._

 ** _"_** ** _BAH-DONG!"_**

 _Without warning, the muffling dissipated and his sense of hearing returned, ten-fold. His eardrums were struck with multiple loud sounds, all at once. The sounds of their daughter's piercing cries, the repetitive sounds of the ringing doorbell, Lucien's cheerful voice announcing and Nasira's hoarse and thin voice alerting him of everything._

 _"_ _Dah-Oar!" Lucien's voice announced as it floated into the bedroom._

 _"_ _Eric…"_

 _He looked to Nasira and found her staring at him._

 _"…_ _it's the paramedics," she whispered to him. "You have to let them in."_

 _'_ _Shhh-it…' Eric busily nodded his head. "Y-Yeah." He lifted himself off of the floor. Both of his knees released pops and bits of discomfort as they settled. He remained rooted in his spot and gave both Nasira and Zola a lingering look. But it was her soft push at his right thigh that caused him to look away and travel to the bedroom's exit. He glanced at the mother and daughter from over his right shoulder. He watched Nasira cradle the crying newborn to her bare left breast and delicately hold the child's head. 'Mine,' he quietly asserted as he watched the scene unfold._

 _'Mine,' he secretly spoke to them before he walked out of the room._

 _His bare feet took him into the hallway and to the staircase. His footsteps were as loud and booming like thunder as they pounded on the wooden stairs. The father of two broke out in a light sprint, as soon as his feet reached the floor of the first level of the house. He ran through the first-level corridor to the foyer, where the door was located. Fingers found the locks. Once every lock was disengaged, Eric ripped the door open. His sight landed on a pair of emergency medical technicians. Before they could greet the former leader, he ushered them inside of the house. With a few husky mumbles that rolled off of his tongue, he escorted them to Nasira's bedroom. Minutes later, he stood in the doorway and observed the medical team's handling of the mother and child. He waited and stood there like a protective father and husband until Lucien called out for him._

 _The father returned to the nursery and he fetched their son from his crib. With his son cradled in his brawny arms, both father and son made their way to the hallway. They stayed by the bedroom's doorway and peered into the room. Lucien babbled and pointed at his mother while Eric muttered his own babbling, totally unaware._

 _It was during this moment, when the Grant matriarch arrived to the residence. It wasn't until the older woman was halfway up the staircase, when he finally took a hearty breath. There was an exchange of pleasantries between the two of them._

 _"_ _Congratulations, Papa!" Mrs. Grant squealed with delight. "Zola's finally here! A little earlier than we expected, but she's here!"_

 _Eric unleashed an exhale. "Yeee-yeah," he groaned._

 _Mrs. Grant peered into Nasira's bedroom. She eyed her daughter and then at the precious bundle that was being cared for by an EMT, on the bed's mattress. She turned her attention to the frazzled father. "Are you up for going to the hospital with them?" she asked him._

 _Eric's head snapped to the left and he stared at the woman. He acknowledged the underlying inquiry behind Mrs. Grant's question. Anxiety struck him as if it was a fist. His stomach jerked and then filled up with a thick rumble. For the past three months, he has been living in Nasira's childhood home in Dauntless Village, in a self-imposed exile. Since that night of when he had shown up to her doorstep, he has been hiding out from everyone. He refused to be seen by the likes of Max and the other leaders, from the well-known trainers. It has been three months since his last visit to the populous section of the Dauntless territory. And now, he was making his return into civilization._

 _Over the months, he had even developed a burly, 'mountain man' look, as Nasira preferred to call it. The meticulous and coiffed style that he was known for was gone. In its place was a look of domestication with his headful of sandy-blond, floppy curls and his substantial, full beard. The beard purposely covered the leadership status that covered his throat, which he maintained. Both the beard and his hair was disarray and served as more signs of his frazzled state._

 _"_ _Wha… Why?" he blurted to the woman as his blue orbs were locked on her._

 _"_ _Because…" Her right hand clasped his broad, left shoulder. She gave it a squeeze that could rival any man's grip. "…my daughter will want you there." She removed her hold._

 _"_ _Are-Are you sure? Did she say that she would want me to be there with her? Cos, you can go and I can stay here with Luke. I don't…" Eric didn't know that he was speaking at a rapid pace. Or, he was displaying his anxiety-riddled state to another person. "…have to go. Isn't it a woman kind of—_

 _Mrs. Grant raised her right hand up and made a wave in front of them. "Eric… Eric…"_

 _The father abruptly shut his mouth._

 _"…_ _My daughter wants you to be there with her. She has told me this. So, don't you worry about that. So… You need to go get dress and get ready. Don't worry about…" Her fingers reached out and playfully pinched at Lucien's cheek. The toddler giggled and wiggled in his father's arms. "…this one! I'm going to take care of my Bunchie!"_

 _'_ _Waah-What?' he silently called out. "I… I-I… Why don't you—_

 _Mrs. Grant gently shook her head and lightly smiled. "No, honey…" Her head slightly tilted and her eyes released a glossy warmth. "…you need to be with the mama and the baby," she re-affirmed._

 _In his mind, he was plagued with a fear-inspired, imagined scenario of being stuck in a waiting area and having to be the victim of gossip, as well as, the recipient to other people's stares. A deep chill kissed his skin and left him shivering._

 _"_ _Eric. Eric… Sweetie… Look at me… Sweetie, it's time," she told him. Her hand cupped the back of his head. She gave his unruly curls a ruffle. "Sweetie, it's time for you." She released his head and the left hand joined the right, when she silently asked for Lucien._

 _Eric spotted the glint in her brown eyes as she gazed at him. He knew. He knew that he couldn't hide from the world anymore._

 _"_ _Gee-Gee," Lucien whimpered as he reached for his grandmother._

 _The act of the pass-off was made. All the while, both of the adults remained eye-contact with each other._

 _"_ _You can do this, baby," Mrs. Grant urged. "You can do this."_

 _He recognized the words that came from her. He felt the genuine love and the concern in her tone. He felt his body dip under an upsurge of heat. His heart raced and pounded against his chest, but for a different motivation this time. His throat felt constricted and he couldn't utter a word. He just simply nodded. 'It's time.'_

 _Davina gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Now, go and get ready. I'll handle things until then. I'll keep an eye out on Nassy and Zee."_

 _Once again, Eric nodded his head. He gave his son a brief sign of affection with a ruffle of his hair and a caress against his back. Then he made his departure. He performed a light sprint down the second floor's hallway to his bedroom. It was there, where he slipped into some clothes, gathered some items that would keep him occupied during the unproductive hours at the hospital and other personal items. He was in the process of stuffing them in a small duffel bag, when Davina appeared in his bedroom's doorway._

 _"_ _The paramedics are ready to go," she notified him._

 _His stomach convulsed and strings of nausea began to tie themselves to his gut. His jaw tightened while he gave a curt nod. He grabbed his bag and then exited the room. He approached the railing to the staircase just as a paramedic was helping Nasira walk out of her bedroom. He took note of the content yet tired expression that was decorating her face. His focus flickered to the towel-wrapped bundle that was being held in her arms and close to her bare chest._

 _"_ _Alright, baby…" he heard Davina announced. She walked past him. "…I'mma see you later on today…" The woman approached her daughter. The two women exchanged farewells._

 _"_ _Mama!" chirped Lucien._

 _Nasira giggled at her son. She reached out and tickled the boy's feet. "Mama is going away for a couple of days. But, I'll be back, Big Boy," she told him. Eric noticed the weakness in her voice._

 _Lucien pointed to Zola. "Bay-bee!" he excitedly squealed. Both women and the paramedics chuckled._

 _Davina gave her grandson a kiss on the temple. "Bunchie, this is your baby sister! That is Zola," she told him._

 _"_ _Dough-la!" the toddler babbled as he eyed the infant and then his grandmother._

 _Davina chuckled. "Close enough, kiddo."_

 _The moment came to an end, when a paramedic announced that they need to get Nasira and Zola to the Dauntless compound, so they could be admitted to the infirmary. Quick farewells were made to both parents. Then Eric followed the medical party as they traveled from the house to the rear of the ambulance, which was parked in front of the house._

 _As the EMTS were helping Nasira into the vehicle, Eric took the opportunity to take a meaningful surveillance of the environment that made Monument Way into 'Monument Way'. It was still in the wee hours of morning, so the neighborhood was calm, quiet and peaceful. But then again, Eric still felt the calmness and the peacefulness, even when it was high-noon and folks were outside. This was a stark contrast between this place and the well-known parts of Dauntless, like the Pit and the Chasm._

 _"_ _Sir…"_

 _He stared at the paramedic, who was standing by the truck's doors._

 _"…_ _you can enter the vehicle," the EMT informed him._

 _Eric climbed into the back of the wagon. He was instructed by the other EMT to have a seat on the bench that was bolted to the left side of the ambulance. He drew himself as close to Nasira as he could. His attention were automatically drawn to her. She was staring at him as she rested on the stretcher._

 _"_ _Hey, Daddy," she rasped with a smile on her lips._

 _"_ _Hey," he breathed before taking a huff._

 _"_ _How are you feeling? I know that it must be a…Shock… For you, to have seen that," she pointed out._

 _A soft cooing penetrated the atmosphere. Both pairs of eyes peered at the infant._

 _"_ _Boy, she decided to make a…" Her voice was drowned out by the purr from the truck's engine._

 _Eric unleashed an uneasy chuckle. His eyes focused on the back of Zola's head. Her little body was wrapped in a towel._

 _"_ _Do you want to hold her?"_

 _"_ _What?" his lips blurted, a second later. He looked at Nasira, wild-eyed and surprised._

 _The mom laughed. "I said… 'Would you like to hold her?' You didn't get the chance to hold Lucien after he was born."_

 _His jaw lost its tension and became slack. His lips performed a few clumsy flops. "I… I… I… Would—Want. I…" He stammered. "…But my hands… My hands. They're not clean. I can give her an infection. I—_

 _The EMT came to the rescue by handing Eric a small plastic bottle of anti-bacterial gel. "Consider this to be a baby gift, Daddy," the technician quipped._

 _Eric muttered a 'Thank you' before he used the cool gel to clean his hands. Once they were dry, he received the swaddled child, with the help from the EMT. Once Zola was secured in his arms, his body unleashed a reaction that left the former faction leader with a heavy chest. There was a strong shudder and his stomach's muscles tightened and then released. He peered down at her sleeping face and just gazed. According to the now, father-of-two, this baby was absolute perfection. He believed that she looked like her mother, but she currently possessed his skin tone._

 _"_ _Hey," he whispered to the child. He watched her tiny face scrunch up and the rapid eye movement that occurred beneath the eyelids. His upper body began to gently sway. "I—_

 _"_ _Daa-dee?"_

 _'…_ _your mother is going to rip me a new asshole, for this.'_

 _Eric glanced at his little girl as she sat on the sofa. "Why are you down here, Zee?" he asked her as he strolled over to the couch. "You know that your mom doesn't like it when you're out of bed at this time."_

 _Zola crawled to the end of the end of the couch that was closest to her father's current location. She kneeled on the thick cushion and sat on the heels of her feet. She gave her father an expectant glance. "Daddy… I was waiting for you," she confessed._

 _Eric's throat had released a low groan and his bottom lip received both rows of teeth. 'Shhh… Don't give me the look. Not the look,' he secretly begged. But his prayer wasn't granted. A second later, he witnessed his daughter's eyes grow large just as the sadness became apparent. It was the expression that made the leader turn into an emotional pile of mush. He sighed and then released his lip. He held his right hand out. The smile that appeared on her lips caused a fluttering trail in his stomach. Once she took his hand, he said, "Zee, you can't keep doing this." He helped her off of the couch. "You have to go to school and you have to get up early in the morning, tomorrow," he informed her. "Then, when your mommy receives a call from Miss April because you were sleeping in your classroom, then Daddy gets in trouble with Mommy." Eric led her out of the living room area and took her into the kitchen._

 _"_ _I know," she cooed. "But I want to talk," she explained._

 _"_ _You wanna talk?"_

 _Movement managed to get into his peripheral view. He turned his full gaze onto the Calico cat that was using the island countertop as a resting place. His left hand formed a few harsh finger snaps and then his index finger pointed to the cat. A pair of brown-yellowish eyes stared at him. "Calamity, down! Now!" he ordered in an authoritative tone. The cat obeyed, but chirped her displeasure along the way. He stared at the cat as she trekked out of the kitchen and joined her twin sister, who rested on their cat tree, in the living room._

 _He returned his attention to his daughter. "What do you want to talk about?"_

 _The duo approached the counter, where he lifted Zola in the air and helped her as she sat on a stool. Then he proceeded to warm up the dinner that he was sure Nasira had left him, in the kitchen._

 _"_ _I…" she sighed, seconds later. "…I…"_

 _Eric glanced at his daughter from over his right shoulder._

 _"…_ _I was… Wondering—_

 _"_ _About what, baby?" he asked, resuming with his task._

 _Zola huffed. "When are you…?" She began to play with her nightgown's collar. "…Done?"_

 _"_ _Done, with what, Zee?" Eric knew exactly what she was referring to, when it came to her question. He was just hoping that it was something else. He continued to look down at his hearty plate of food._

 _"_ _With… That 'Leadership' thing?" she asked._

 _'_ _Damn it.' His lips pursed up and a groan escaped from him. He looked away from his plate and the stovetop. He gave the cupboard that was above the stove a glance before he turned around. "Zee..." he sighed._

 _"_ _Yes, Daa-dee?" she chirped, making her dimples pronounced._

 _He approached the other side of the island counter and placed his hand on the countertop. He quickly pondered about how he was going to break the bad news to her. 'She's going to cry,' his instinct told him. The notion made his throat tighten up. A rush of air fell from his nose. His eyes made a glimpse at his hands. 'Here goes nothing.' He licked his bottom lip. Then he released a shaky breath. "Zee…I am… This is my job, sweetie. D-D-Do you know what a job is?"_

 _Zola nodded her head. "Mommy has one, too."_

 _Eric smiled. "That's right. But my job is different than hers."_

 _"_ _How?" the four year-old asked._

 _"_ _You know how your mom works most of the day and then she comes home at night, when you and your Aunt Hexa and the boys are here?" After watching her head nod, he further explained. "Well, with me, my job makes me work longer hours. There are going to be a lot of times, when I won't come home until you… Luke and even Mommy are in bed, sleeping."_

 _Zola's face took on a look of surprise. Her tiny jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide. "Even when Mommy is asleep?!"_

 _Eric nodded. "Yes, even when Mommy is asleep."_

 _"_ _What 'bout when the babies come? Will you come home after they are sleepin'?"_

 _"_ _Yes, even after Augustus and Zephyr are born, I will be coming home late sometimes," he confirmed._

 _"_ _Oh," she said softly. Her fingers twirled the black, silk ribbons from the collar. "How long, Daa-dee?"_

 _"_ _For?"_

 _"_ _Work?" she simply said to him._

 _"_ _How long do I have to work as a leader?" he asked her. When she nodded her head, he spit out a curse in his head. '…it-shit-shit-shit… Shit!' He didn't want to tell her the truth. He knew that she wouldn't like the answer. He cleared his throat, trying to bat down the lump that was growing in there. "For…" He glanced at the countertop. "…a very-very-very long time."_

 _Her head created a subtle jerk just as he glanced at her. Her facial features formed into a gentle grimace. She was clearly running his answer through her mind. Once she reached insight, the frown in her brow grew deeper. Her doe-shaped, gray eyes focused on her father's reddening orbs. "For…Ebb-ber?" she whispered with hesitance._

 _Eric heard the small sliver of hope that she placed in her tone of voice. The lump grew large. He took in a breath. "Yes," he quickly answered._

 _"_ _Forebb-ber," she whimpered before the grimace deepened. A few milliseconds later, there were a cluster of whimpers. Then came a whining cry came from her mouth, which were followed by the onslaught of tears._

 _'_ _FFFFF-uck!,' his brain hissed._

 _A few seconds into her display of grief, she spoke. "_ _Y-Y-You… S-S-Said…" she cried out, stammering._

 _'_ _Fuck-fuck-fuck…'_

 _A melancholy song of cries escaped from her as she sat across from her father. Her tiny hands reached up to her face and covered her eyes. It was a characteristic that he was familiar with and one that she rightly inherited. "Y-You-You-You said d-d-d…" she sobbed behind her palms._

 _"_ _I know what I said, baby," he said softly._

 _"_ _Y-You prom-promise!" she cried._

 _"_ _I know," he groaned. He subtly turned his attention to the counter. He silently cursed at himself for causing his own flesh-and-blood to cry. 'Fuck…'_

 _Since Zola was a bubbly, five month-old baby, Eric was the parent that primarily took care of her, once Nasira returned to work after her maternity leave expired. So, while she was at work in the Dauntless compound, Eric was the person who took care of the kids and the household. Unlike Luke, who understood the importance of his father's role, Zola wasn't able to comprehend. The leader's daughter expected for her father to still complete his role as a 'stay-at-home, father'. She expected him to still be there, as he sent her off to bed and to be the first person to greet her with each new morning._

 _He pushed away from the edge of the counter and then he traveled to the other side of the counter. He gathered his daughter into his arms and gave her the strongest hug that he knew that she could handle. She followed suit by having her arms squeeze his neck and her legs held onto his waist. She pressed her face into the lapel of his uniform and she proceeded to soak his shirt with her tears._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Zee," he announced into her pink bonnet. He continued to hold onto her and listen to her sobs._

 _There were recollections, snapshots of moments that were created within the past six years. Moments that involved only the two of them. She was his 'special girl'. No one would ever take that title away from her. He was the one, who was able to capture her milestones as a baby, as a toddler and as a child. From when her teeth cut through the gums, the time that she decided to take her first steps and the moment when she walked into her schoolhouse for the first time. Coincidentally, it was the following day, when he returned to The Mind, for his first day as leader again._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, baby," he repeated as his eyes stung, a moment later. He noticed that her little body stopped trembling. "Even though I am a leader, I am going to try to make it home, every night. Early. So, we can have dinner like we used to do, with Mommy and with Luke…" His voice trailed off, so he could hear if she was listening to him. Her cries weren't as loud as they began. He stepped away from the counter and he headed towards the living room. "I promise to be here as much as I can, Zee…" He was mindful of where he was stepping as he dodged the edge of the coffee table. "…I do miss being home with you and Luke."_

 _"_ _So, quit," he heard being spoken into his shirt._

 _Eric chuckled. "I can't do that, honey. It's not that simple." He approached the windows that were on the other side of the living room. He stared out of the window. In thanks to the living room's lighting, he couldn't get a clear view of the Chicago skyline, but he still stared out. "But I can promise you that I can try very-very-very-very hard to do all of my work as fast as possible and make it home before it gets really dark outside. How about that, mmm?"_

 _The strength in her arms had gone slack, and soon, they released their hold on his neck. Her hands pressed against his shoulders just as she lifted her face away from his chest. She peered up at him while he stared down at her. "You promise?" she said softly, her small voice was somewhat shaking._

 _But Eric could sense that she wasn't as devastated as previously. She was becoming stronger. A lopsided grin formed on her face. 'That's my special girl.' He gave her body a playfully jostle in his arms. "I promise," he confirmed. "And… I'll read you a story every night."_

 _Zola gave him a discerning eye. After a few seconds, her lips puckered and she nodded her head._

 _Relief filled him. He unleashed a deep breath. "So you're not mad at me?" he inquired with a hopeful expression on his face._

 _"_ _I'm mad at you," she informed him as a deep scowl appeared._

 _'_ _Well… shit.'_

 _"_ _But it won't be forebb-ber," she clarified._

 _"_ _Okay…" he announced with a nod of his head. "…I can accept that," he told her. He lightly chuckled. As she moved to hug him, he uttered, "I love you, Butt-Face"._

 _"_ _I love you, Big Head," she declared into his shoulder, with her voice being muffled._

 _Eric chuckled and—_

 **"** **KHAH-LAANG!"**

The Dauntless leader's body jerked against the smooth stone that made up both the wall and the floor of his cell. The thunderous sound of the opening to the prison wing caused Eric to be unfairly pulled out of his mind, away from his memories. With a twinge of fear in his soul and a pair of bulging eyes, he leaned forward so he could stare at the walls of bars. His ears picked up the repetitive sounds of footsteps as they struck the corridor's floor. The volume that was hidden in those steps' echoes became louder as they drew closer to his cell's entrance. His blue orbs gazed at the bars and slowly began to fill up with anticipation.

His curiosity was satisfied, a few seconds later. A prison guard approached the chamber's entrance. Eric discreetly assessed the lanky man as he stood there.

"Ummm…" the guard hummed, making his sense of discomfort easily detected. "...Dauntless Leader Coulter… _I am Officer Medrano_. I…" He made a hard swallow and then a full exhale. "I am here on the behalf of Staff Sergeant Grant…"

Eric rose to his feet, and in four large strides, he stood in front of the door. A fiery gaze was leveled to the unsure guard. As a result, he watched the younger man flinch. There was fear in that man's eyes. Under normal circumstances, he would've appreciate it. "What… What did he say?" he asked the officer, with a coldness and an authoritative tone. However, his soul was begging whatever higher power that still existed in this world that the worst has passed.

"He, uh, he said that he is still at the hospital. He doesn't know anything as of the moment. He said that your wife and son were taken to Landsteiner to be treated. They are in surgery, right now. Uh… He's there now. He's told me that once he finds out how things are going, then he will tell me and I will come here and tell you. I-I promise you, Dauntless Leader Coulter. As soon as possible," the guard sworn.

Eric nodded his head with great reluctance. His stomach growled with displeasure. He gave the guard a heated and lingering glare.

"I promise you, Sir. I will come back here, if I receive word," promised Officer Medrano.

Eric nodded his head once again. He took a step away from the bars. "Let me know as soon as you receive word."

Officer Medrano emphatically nodded his head. "I will, Sir. I will," he reiterated.

He gave Eric a glance before making a few steps away. "Um, Sir, you might have to speak to some cops later on," he pointed out.

His brain unleashed a splice from a memory. A snippet of a blood-splattered pavement and then the image of the contorted face of his wife as she cried out in pain, flashed across his mind's eye. A feral growl slipped from his throat as his face grimaced. 'No… No… no…' He silently pleaded with his brain to not torment his soul anymore. He just wanted to be face with the pleasant memories. Eric wanted to relive only the happier times. '…No. No. No. No… _Don't you fucking dare!_ Don't you…' He opened his eyes and stared at the cell's floor. He focused on his breathing.

 _"_ _That's it… That's it, Mister Coulter. That's it… That's it. Easy, does it."_

Eric knew that Miss Carole's voice was a figment of his imagination, but this little bit of insanity was needed. The pressure in his shoulders decreased. He subliminally acknowledged the light traffic that was inside of his head.

 _"…_ _That's it, Sir. Just… Release all of it,"_ the phantom psychiatrist suggested.

"Okay," he whispered, "okay".


	3. Chapter Two: Set Adrift On Memory Bliss

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **There isn't any particular reason for the new update. It's just a case of me receiving a proverbial 'bug up in my ass' and wanting to knock this one out before the weekend. I am planning on relaxing this weekend. That's it! LOL!**

 **Just a reminder: This story will contain a lot of flashbacks. To make them easier to understand, I had put all of them in italics. Also, I want to let you know that this story is in Eric's POV. The flashbacks are not in chronological order. Also, the transitions between the flashbacks won't be noticeable. So, there will be no sign/visible notice for when he goes from memory to memory, or, for when he is interrupted.**

 **Thank you for leaving reviews, for reading and for leaving me lovely comments.**

 **RATING: RATED 'M' FOR MATURE/NC-17**

 **WARNINGS: THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT THEMES, ADULT LANGUAGE, SEXUAL THEMES AND VIOLENCE. DIVERGENT A/U FIC.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING FROM THE 'DIVERGENT' SERIES. JUST THE O/Cs. I ALSO DO NOT THE RIGHTS TO "STIR IT UP".**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: "Set Adrift On Memory Bliss"**

 ***~oMLo~***

 _The soft orange light from the bedside lamp covered her smooth brown skin while highlighting the sweat that formed layers upon her. His eyesight poured over her soft, tattooed stomach as her body writhed on top of his. Fingertips lightly grazed over the tall columns of cryptic symbols that were etched into her flesh._

 _"_ _Eric," she softly moaned just as her slicked-wet heat placed a tighter rein on his prick._

 _Pleasure punched him in his lower extremities. His sacs flinched while he felt his member cry out and his gut spasm. His hands shot out and gripped her hips. Using his lower back's strength, he slightly lifted off of the mattress and thrust into her welcoming snatch._

 _The bedroom was subjected to her keen and curt moans. Her sharp fingernails dug into his sweat-covered chest as she bear down on the intense pleasure._

 _"_ _Yeee… Yeah!" growled Eric, with delight. He soaked in the glorious scene that was presented in front of him. He watched his wife embrace his hardness as she continued to ride his cock. His eyes wandered. First, they focused on her pair of tits as they recoiled with every thrust. Then there was the expression that was marking her gorgeous face. With the deep grimace, she appeared to be subjected to a dose of pain. But, the constant streams of moans that came from her plump lips told a contrasting story. He peered down to the small patch of trimmed hair, which was in between her plush thighs. There was a desire in him to see the sign of their union. He glanced at her face again. His lips managed to spew, "Lemme see"._

 _Connected in more ways than one, Nasira knew what he wanted, so she complied with his request. Her thighs parted into a wider stance. His eyes gazed into that triangle that was in between her legs. A throbbing, fissure of pleasure managed to nip its way into his sex. He continued to be a spectator to their rutting._

 _Hands grasped tighter on her hips and kept a firm hold, even as he changed their positions on the bed. With a roar-like groan floating from his mouth, he maneuvered their position, so that he was in complete control. She was now laying on her back while Eric was now on top. The mattress and the pile of pillows were jostled upon their bodies' impact._

 _"_ _Yah—_

 _The word died on his tongue, when he came across her face. There was an expression on her face that best can be described as 'horrified'. His stomach performed a quiver and his heart gave his chest a few hard thumps. Her lips were twisted up in a snarl. There was a deep crease in her brow. Her eyes were bulging as she stared at him. He viewed the conflicting emotions that swirled in her dark brown orbs. She was terrified, shocked and confusion._

 _His brain issued an inquiry to his soul, asking for a reason for this sudden change in her. Eric received his answer, a second later, when his nose picked up a familiar scent. He could recognize that metallic scent that accompanies blood from anywhere. 'Why is there—_

 _A weak yet shiver-inducing, wheezing was introduced to the once-passionate atmosphere._

 _Eric watched her bloodstained lips tremble as they began to move. "W-W-W-Waa-waa… W-Why?" she had spoken. Her voice was different than he was used to hearing. It was weak and it displayed her fear._

 _His eyes focused on her face and eyed the spray of crimson that soiled her left cheek._

 _"_ _W-W-W-W-Why?!" she stuttered._

 _His blue eyes lost their focus as it was aimed on her face. It traveled to her neck's location._

 _"_ _W-W-Why?"_

 _Bigger splatters of her blood were decorating her throat. The color of her life force was a deep shade of black. It was as black as the uniforms that once graced his body._

 _"_ _W-W-Why?"_

 _Eric noticed a change in his fingers. There was a sudden warmth and wetness to his callused skin. His line of vision was drawn to his appendages. His eyes widened from shock. 'Oh—_

 _"_ _Oh… God!" he moaned out in horror. Blood covered his hands. Her inky-black, blood coated his hands. Blood slipped from the cracks of his fingers and performed a slithery descent to her body. He couldn't physically react. All he could do was stare down at his hands and watch the terrifying scene unravel. "Oh God."_

 _"_ _W-Why?" she cried out with her weakened voice._

 _He glanced at his bleeding wife and could only shake his head. His voice wouldn't form words for him, only shuddering breaths. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know how this came to be._

 _"_ _E-Eric?" Her lips trembled. Curt and ragged breaths escaped from her mouth. "Why did this happened?" she sobbed. "Why did this…?" she whimpered, before her sobs took over._

 _"_ _I—_

 ** _"_** ** _WHA-WHHHHYYYY—_**

Eric's eyes snapped open before his brain could fully process the action. His lips parted and released a sharp exhale. He peeled his upper body from off of the plastic, sleeping mat and he placed himself in a sitting position, with his broad back pressed against the wall. His hands came up to his face, where he gave himself a few rubs. He realized that he had fallen asleep while he reminisced.

 _"_ _Oh my God—_

 _"_ _ **SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!"**_

 _"_ _Nnnnnn…"_

 ** _"_** ** _OH MY GOD! THERE'S A BABY IN THE BACK! THERE'S—_**

 ** _"_** ** _OH! MY GAH—SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!GET-GET A DOCTOR!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _GET A MEDIC! WE NEED A MED—_**

 _"…_ _NNNN…._ _ **NASS! NASS! NNN…"**_

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE HELP THAT BABY! HELP! PLEASE HELP!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _OH GOD!"_**

 ** _"…_** ** _NNNASSSSS!"_**

The memory had come back to his mind. This time, it had brought along the voices and the sounds from that horrifying incident. He recalled every decibel and syllable that was spoken from every bystander, witness, Good Samaritan and even himself. There were the sounds of gasps of astonishment, frantic screams, the shouting and the rushed instructions.

His brain visualized the image of their battered SUV as it was parked along the curb. It was still in the same spot that he had chosen, on the night before. He had chosen that spot because he knew that she was going to drive his truck to take Lucien to his swim practice, on the following morning. _On that day_. He knew that she would've had her hands full with both Lucien's and her stuff. He didn't want her to travel too far, so he parked there.

'… I should've gotten up. I should've gotten up to help her with the stuff. I should've…'

 _Bare-skinned, brown legs lain on the sidewalk and there was a pair of funky-looking, red sneakers on her feet._

 ** _"_** ** _NNNNAASSSS!"_**

Eric shook his head. "No!" he growled to himself, to his over-active brain. His fingers violently raked through his shorn hair. His head aggressively shook, an attempt to shut his mind up, when it came to those toxic memories. "No!" he growled. He slammed the back of his head against the stone wall that was behind him. The small cell filled up with the echoing sound of his head's collision. "No!" he shouted into his palms and into the room. He ignored the blunt pain that exploded in the back of his skull. His fingers pulled at his hair. "No! No, Eric!" A gruff-sounding, exhale shot through his flaring nostrils. "No! Happy… Happy thoughts. _Happy thoughts_!" He brought his shaking fists up to his face.

Still angrily panting, his sight fell upon the band of white gold that was wrapped around his left, ring finger.

'…Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts…'

* * *

 ***~oMRo~***

 _"…_ _the time we—_

 _"_ _Oh please, Carla, don't tell that story!"_

 _There was a wave of faint applause, laughter and cheers. "Yeah! Tell that—_

 _"_ _No, Carla! Don't you dare…"_

 _There was a wave of laughter. By the time it reached Eric's ears, the jovial sounds lost their intensity and were now faint. But, the good vibes were still there and it managed to make the naturally-brooding man to smile with a lopsided grin._

 _Another wave of sounds managed to penetrate the walls that made up this old house. Blue eyes peered down to the sources as they slept on him. The lopsided grin turned into a full-blown smile as he took in the view of his two babies as they napped. Each child was using his thighs as pillows. His eyes stared at his firstborn, Lucien, as rested with his left thigh. The four year-old slept in a fetal position, causing his tuxedo to bunch up and become wrinkled. Eric ran his fingers through the curly mohawk that adorned the top of his son's head. The proud father watched a tiny smile appear on the boy's lips, milliseconds later._

 _Lightly chuckling, he began to peer down at his second-born, who still managed to make his heart pound and for flutters to erupt in his stomach. Eric gazed at his daughter as she napped against his right thigh. He took in the sight and that light chuckle became laughter. Loud and unkempt snores escaped from the year-old child as she slept with every limb spread out, in a clumsy form of a spread eagle. 'Yeah, she definitely came from the both of us.' He meant it; every trait that his daughter possessed, it was inherited from Nasira or from himself. From her wild, sleeping habits, down to her personality traits, all of them came from both parents._

 _"_ _Hey, Daddy."_

 _Eric tore his attention away from his kids and to the divine figure that filled up the doorway of his office. His lips curved to form a smile. It has been a little bit over four hours since their nuptials and that weird, but pleasant, sensation was still taking up space in him. 'It's the dress,' he quietly concluded. Nasira was still wearing her wedding dress, which a standout due to its ivory color._

 _"_ _Did you eat anything yet?" she asked. Her voice was drenched with concern. "I don't think there's any more food left, but I could make you a sandwich, baby, if that's what—_

 _"_ _No," he announced as he softly shook his head. "No, it's alright, baby…"_

 _'_ _She's definitely a good woman. Too good for you, in fact.'_

 _His stomach quivered, in reaction. He stared at their kids. "…I ate something earlier," he lied._

 _"_ _Oh, okay…" she murmured before she pushed herself from off of the doorframe. "…I was concern for a moment." Her feet proceeded to cross the room._

 _"_ _Nah… I'm alright," he said softly._

 _A stream of silence floated into the air. The muffled sounds of their guests' activities penetrated the atmosphere._

 _"_ _They've managed to tire themselves out," she said to him, approaching._

 _"_ _Yeah," he sighed. He glimpsed at the kids and then at his wife._

 _"_ _Well, they can't sleep for too long because they are going over to Trig's and Roxy's place soon," she informed her husband._

 _'_ _Trig and Rox?' His brain flashed a reminder of the couple's four children. A genuine, glee-filled snicker escaped him. "So… They're going to take our kids?" he queried, before falling into a deeper chuckle._

 _"_ _Yeah," a smiling Nasira confirmed. "According to them, they can handle all six."_

 _"_ _For the whole week?"_

 _"_ _No. Just for the weekend," she informed her husband. "Then, Dante and Trudy are taking them and they'll spend the rest of the week in Amity."_

 _Eric saw a glint form in her eyes. 'Mmm, what are you up—_

 _"_ _Then we'll be all-alone…"_

 _'_ _Oh.'_

 _"…_ _for an entire week," she pointed out._

 _His infamous, lopsided smile steadily appeared on his lips. "Oh yeah?"_

 _Nasira nodded. "Yeeee-yeah," she drawled._

 _A breathy, short laugh left him. "You know what this means, right?" He watched his wife form a sideways glance and then a sly smile._

 _"_ _I think so… But I would like for you to tell me anyway," she told him._

 _The grin turned into a full-fledged smile. "It means that we can sleep past six o' clock in the got-damned morning!"_

 _Nasira's head reared back as a delightful laugh came bur—_

 **"** **KHAH-LAANNNGGG!"**

There was a subtle jerk from his frame, the only sign of his state of consciousness. Eric kept his eyes closed. He remained in his seat even as he heard the footsteps draw closer to his cell. It wasn't until he heard his official title called, when he opened his eyes and looked to see the person that was standing at the bars.

"It's me. It's me, Dauntless Leader Coulter…"

Eric recognized Officer Medrano.

"…It's… Off-Officer Medrano. I am here because I received a call from Staff Sergeant Grant and—

Eric leapt off of his meager bed and made his way over to the bars. "What did he— _What happened with my wife and son_? Did he…" As Eric unleashed his inquiries, the correction officer simply nodded his head. The action, as well as, the dopey expression that was on Officer Medrano's face angered the faction leader. "…say— _What the hell did he say_?!" he groaned.

The lanky, young officer released a few more head nods. " _Y-Yeah!_ _Yeah!_ _He did t-tell me something!_ It's about your boy! _H-He's out of surgery!_ He's out of surgery. He's okay…"

The smiling face of his eldest son flashed before his mind's eye. Intense level of relief struck the frazzled father, leaving him with a racing heart and a pressure in his gut that felt like he was carrying a brick. A crude exhale slithered its way from his clenched jaw. His upper body leaned towards the gated, cell's exit, where his forehead rested against the cold iron.

"…Staff Sargeant Grant wanted you to know that your son is in a stabled condition. Um, he also wanted me to tell you that they, um, had to take out his spleen and pa-part of… A part of his liver, too… Sir… Dauntless Leader Coulter," reported Officer Medrano. "I'm sorry, Sir."

A feral, growl escaped from his throat. His fingers found themselves being wrapped around the bars. The desire of wanting to strangle the monster, who managed to do this, entered his soul. A few more groans escaped him before he groaned, "What about my wife?"

"She's still in surgery, Sir. I don't have any more information beyond that. But I will come back, when I do. I promise, Sir."

A solitary grunt came from him. Then it was followed by a curt head nod. Eric glowered the man that stood on the other side of the bars. "Thank you." Even though his words were polite, the energy that surrounded the man wasn't as polite.

Officer Medrano performed a subtle nod, a sign of his gratitude, all the while eyeing the captured man with caution. "You're…" The correction officer made an audible swallow. "You're welcome, Sir." He took a step away from the bars and then proceeded to travel to the corridor's exit.

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

 ** _"_** ** _It's been a long, long time, yeah!  
(stir it, stir it, stir it together)  
Since I got you on my mind. (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh) Oh-oh!  
Now you are here (stir it, stir it, stir it together), I said…"_**

 _Eric's cobalt blues didn't know where to start with their exploration. He tried to take in every inch of her curvaceous and scantily-clad body as she danced. His attention, as well as, his erection was drawn to every part of her, thanks to tonight's choice in clothing. He ogled her corset-clad bust down to the pair of leather boots that adorned her feet. Nasira was seductively dancing on the small, linoleum-tiled makeshift dancefloor that the bar provided. Hell, she wasn't the only woman on that dancefloor that was dancing for him, if he were to judge by the occasional flirtatious glances that were thrown into his direction._

 ** _…_** ** _it's so clear  
There's so much we could do, baby, (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)  
Just me and you._**

 _But his eyes, his attention and his dick were going to be pleased by only one woman._

 _Since their arrival to 'Ace in the Hole' pub, Nasira has been acting cheeky and playful, Eric noticed. It was a new thing for his wife and the mother-of-two. He could've believed that it was due to the 'Love Bug' that she ingested, the hot fuck that they've shared after his fight or the two pints of ale that were in her system. But, he knew that it wouldn't be true._

 _He knew, because he saw a different light takeover in her eyes, after he confessed about wanting to take her down into The Corners, as a part of their 'date night'. Either way, he wasn't going to complain._

 _"_ _Ayyy! Legs!"_

 _The catcall diverted his focus. He had gone from ogling his wife to now glaring at the group of lunk-heads that were loitering at the bar._

 _"_ _Legs!"_

 _The call came from a man that was standing in the middle of the small group of men. All six men were eyeing the dancing women. Each held smiles on their faces and mischievous glints in their eyes._

 _"_ _Legs!" the man in the middle, shouted out again._

 _Eric quietly and quickly assessed the men. He observed the dark jumpsuits, the obnoxious behavior and the acts of asserting their manhood. He rapidly came to the conclusion that these men were the mechanics that provided maintenance for every military vehicle that was in Dauntless. They were popularly known as 'gear-heads'._

 _"_ _Legs! Legs! I know that you hear me!" the catcaller shouted out._

 _Eric followed the mechanic's line of sight and his vision landed on his wife. Rather than feel a mere sliver of anger towards the asshole, there was humor. A subtle smile settled on his lips while intrigue settled to its way into his brain. He was curious as to what she was going to do. A sober Nasira would blush and then become a combination of bashful and embarrassed, due to the attention._

 _"_ _Legs! You know that—_

 _"_ _Oh Ray, can you shut-the-fuck up?! She ain't interested…"_

 _Those sharp and observing pupils of his focused on the group again. This time, one of the other gear-heads spoke up. The man, who stood next to loudmouth Ray's left side, gave his friend's head a playful slap with his baseball cap._

 _"…_ _in ya ass! Leave the girl alone and let her dance without your hootin' and hollerin' after her! Besides…" The friend leaned in and proceeded to whisper in the catcaller's ear._

 _Eric didn't have to be privy to that conversation to know what the topic was about. He had a hunch. His assumption was proven correct, when he watched two pairs of eyes land on him. In response, a smug smirk crossed his face just as his ego swelled. 'That's right, fuckers…' He twisted his upper body and fetched his glass of whiskey from off of the table. He turned around and returned his attention to his wife. As he stared at her, his right set of fingers took a hold of the hemline of his unbuttoned shirt and gave it a subtle jerk. His action caused the collar of his shirt to lift away from his neck and for the faction leader to brandish his leadership tats. He performed a sideways glimpse at the men. His action caused the reaction that he wanted from them. They were completely gob-smacked. '…That's mine. That's right,' he said to himself. He reclined in his chair and eyed his Nasira. "That's my girl," he muttered into his glass._

 _'—_ _my girl.'_

 _It wasn't even a conscious thought, Eric immediately realized. It was more of an instinct. A wave of cold numbness washed over him as he stood a few feet away from the front door._

 _The Dauntless leader had just entered Nasira's apartment and was greeted by a festive, high-paced energy. Both mother and son were in the apartment's kitchenette area while dinner was being prepared. Lucien, their son, was sitting in his highchair, giggling and babbling to his mother. Nasira was dancing and singing with the music that was playing from her stereo system as she_ _cooked. Neither of them realized Eric was currently standing in their home and watching everything that was unfolding. It was during this moment, when his instinct called out to him._

 _'_ _Wait…No. No…' he declared to that part of him. An image of Anissa flashed in his mind. 'Yes! Her… Just her. Just…' Eric peered away from the jovial scene that was occurring in her kitchen. Out of a case of subconscious nervousness, he glimpsed down at his left hand, which still held onto his overnight bag._

 _"_ _Daaa-duh!"_

 _'_ _Waa…'_

 _Simultaneously, his head swiftly turned into Lucien's direction. He was stricken with a sharp pain in the nape of his neck, as a reward for his impromptu action. He eyed the curly-haired toddler, who was now staring at him._

 _"_ _Daaa-duh!" squealed Lucien as his right index finger pointed at him. "Daaa-duh!" The child fell into a giggling spell. He brought his palms to his mouth and laughed into them. "Daaa-duh!" he called out from behind his hands._

 _'_ _He just… Cah—No. No, he didn't. He…' Eric looked away and stared at the hardwood floor. His sense of logic was telling him that it was impossible for their son to start acknowledging him as his father. After all, it has been just two days since their first introduction._

 _"_ _Daaa-duh! Daaa-duh! Daaa—_

 _"_ _Who you're talking to, big boy?" he heard Nasira ask their son._

 _The boy's gray eyes glanced at his mother just as his right index finger pointed over to Eric once again. He looked at him again. "Daaa-duh! Daaa-duh!"_

 _A pair of sparkling brown eyes and a toothy smile were the first things that greeted him as he entered her birthing suite. He took his eyes off of his wife and he scanned the hospital room, which was his way of dealing with his nervousness._

 _"_ _Hey, Daddy," Nasira greeted him. Her voice was hoarse and low._

 _Eric gathered the courage to stop staring at everything and focus on his mate. His lips formed a simpering smile. "Hey, baby…" He detected no sense of anger or animosity from her. Just fatigue and happiness. He still felt like absolute shit. Thanks to a long-winded task, a meeting in Candor with Jack Kang, he managed to miss the births of their sons, Zephyr and Augustus. He made quiet steps towards the foot of Nasira's bed. "…how are you feeling?"_

 _"_ _Tired," she answered, as a demure laugh escaped from her. Her right hand ran through her thick, coils. "It was definitely hard work." She lightly snickered. Her laughter managed to die down and allow an awkward silence to waft through the room. During this moment, both parents eyed one another. Eventually, she ended the moment. "What's with the long face, hon?"_

 _Eric unleashed a sigh and then a grimace. "I missed everything…" He eyed the blanket that covered her legs. "…I fuckin' managed to miss our kids' births. I promised you that I would be here. I… I-I-I-I….The boys' birth—_

 _"And that is not your fault, baby," she interjected._

 _He stared at his wife's face. Eric spotted determination in her eyes._

 _"_ _Baby…" She took a breath. Then she continued. "I knew—In fact, we both knew—that it was a possibility that you could miss the births. You just got your title back. It… Just so happened to come back to you around the time of the boys' due date. Eric, I didn't expect for you to be one-hundred percent here for me, because you're a leader…" She sighed. "…I married you, knowing this. And before you even think that it: No, I don't carry any regrets about marrying you. And yes, I love your big-headed ass." A smile touched her lips. "So… Stop beating yourself up, please…" Her right hand reached out for him. "…and come over here and lay down with me. You look like you haven't slept in a few days. There's plenty of space in this bed."_

 _Eric bit into his bottom lip before making another tight-lipped smile. He turned away from the bed and his fingers reached for the buttons of his coat. He began to shed off the layers of clothes that represented the intimidating, fearless leader. Once his coat, uniform's top and his polished, black boots were off, he climbed into his wife's bed. She welcomed him with a smile on her face, a limp hug and then with a kiss to his forehead. He settled in, on her right side like he usually did, and rested his head on her chest. Just by laying next to her and with her arms embracing him, the stress melted away. His body lost all of its rigidness that managed to accumulate as the hours ticked by, when he was touring the Candor province._ _The knot that was buried in the pit of his stomach quietly unraveled and released all of the pressure that was built up inside._

 _After a moment of quietness between the parents, there was an "I'm sorry" from him._

 _"_ _Don't be," she said softly against his hairline. A silence had fallen into the room. The sound of an infant's cry occasionally broke through the walls' surface and filled up the hospital suite. Otherwise than those sounds, it was quiet and serene for the tired faction leader and for his wife._

 _But the sounds of newborns' wailing did remind Eric that they were missing two important guests from the bedroom. '_ _Speaking of which…'_

 _Eric lifted his head off of her breast and he glimpsed at her with his eyes falling half-mast due to his sleepiness. "Where are they?"_

 _Nasira opened her eyes and peered down at her husband. "_ _Their nurse took them out. For observation. Don't worry: it's customary." She sighed as she closed her eyes. "Plus, my mother is with them. Probably harassing the poor nurse as I speak." Both parents chuckled._

 _"_ _How are you feel—_

 **"** **KHAH-LAANNNGGG!"**

Eric's eyes snapped open and his vision was greeted by a gradually-spinning jail cell. He realized that he fell asleep as he reminisced, again. His right hand reached for his face. He made a few rough rubs, an attempt to chase away the fog that clouded his head. As he rubbed his face, his sense of hearing alerted him about the two pairs of footsteps that were getting closer. He pulled his paw away just in time to see two police officers approach his cell.

Eric sensed that they weren't correction officers. He took note of their crisp and tailored uniforms. 'Investigators,' his logic told him.

As the pair stood on the other side of the bars, Eric allowed himself to crudely assess the two. Immediately, he was welcomed with the thought that the duo resembled the comedy duo Laurel and Hardy.

"Dauntless Leader Coulter…" the officer that stood closest to the corridor's exit, pronounced. He was the officer that reminded the leader of Stan Laurel, ever since he was tall and thin, as well as, possessed a very prominent jaw like the comedian. "…my name is Investigator Howell-Thoms…" The police detective showcased his gold, police badge in his left hand. Once he believed that Eric had enough time to view and inspect his identification, he stored his badge in his pants' pocket. He nodded in his partner's direction. "This…"

At this point of the introduction, Eric decided to get up and make his way over to the bars.

"…is my partner, Investigator Downes."

The "Hardy" to Investigator Howell-Thoms' "Laurel" was a tall man that was heavyset and looked like he could've been a god, at one point in his life. He carried his weight well, Eric believed. He was wide and barrel-chested. His thick arms stretched his blazer's sleeves, making it appear as if they were about to rip out of the seams. Eric thought that this man could've packed enough strength in one punch to kill a person. Investigator Downes gave Eric a brief once-over before doling out a subtle head nod and then a "Hello, Sir".

Eric gave each man a curt head nod, in response.

"First off, Investigator Downes and I would like to extend you some condolences, in regards to what has happened to your wife and son, this morning," Investigator Howell-Thoms explained.

The Dauntless leader performed another curt head nod. "Thank… You," he stated in a hushed tone. Both officers gifted him with sympathetic smiles.

"Dauntless Leader Coulter…" Investigator Downes said in a surprisingly calm and polite tone. "…we have come here to inform you that Investigator Howell-Thoms and I will be handling the investigation for these shootings. So, if you have any questions—

"Yes," stated Eric, effectively cutting off Investigator Downes. He glanced at his partner and then returned his gaze to the heavyset officer. "What do you know so far?"

There was a deep sigh from Investigator Howell-Thoms as he moved his right hand into his pants' pocket. "From what we know…" He produced a hand-sized, notepad and proceeded to flip through a few pages. "…everything is looking like this was an attempt at a car-jacking…"

'No.' Eric looked away from the men and stared at the back of his hands, which were holding onto the bars. Bells and alarms were ringing off in his head. 'Car-jacking… No. Not possible…'

"… We recovered a weapon at the scene of where the shooting had took place. It was a knife, and judging by the knife's appearance, we are assuming that the knife belonged to your wife. The—

"The knife? Did it had a retractable blade? The handle… Was the handle made from a black stone and there were… gold decorations on it? The blade had a serrated edge to it?" Eric asked. He looked at the detectives and saw that they were silently provided confirmation with the act of head nods. "Then, it was my wife's knife. She always made sure that she carried it, when she had to go out."

"If that's the case, Dauntless Leader Coulter, then it just leads us closer to the perp, who has done this," Investigator Downes informed him. "We found blood on the knife. We are currently assuming that she must've defended herself, when she was attacked. So, if that's the case, then that blood must be his—Or, hers—cause we can't assume that this is a man."

"This wasn't a car-jacking," the faction leader suggested.

"What makes you so sure?" Investigator Howell-Thoms queried.

"Because…" He gifted the cop a penetrating glare. "…that vehicle—that truck—was mine, which makes it a legit vehicle for an official. That truck… If someone were to steal my truck in the morning, I guarant-damn-tee you that I would have it back by the time I want to go out for my lunch break. That truck has a low-jack system inside of it, as well as, five security cams. And this isn't something that we leaders keep as a secret. It is _common-fucking-knowledge_ that those vehicles are loaded with all kinds of shit, in order to prevent this kind of stuff from happ—

"Maybe the perp is a factionless—

Eric unleashed a sarcastic-driven laugh into his cell. 'Un-fucking-believable…' he groaned inwardly. 'Like a factionless asshole is going to steal a vehicle from the city.' He gruffly exhaled. "That's not likely possible," he reported to them. He released the bars and backed away from the entrance. "Factionless… Despite being the occasional pest, when it comes to stealing food from the Amity fields, they like to keep to themselves. They also do things that don't draw attention to their colonies. In particular, get the attention of the Dauntless patrols. They're not going to carjack a woman and her child and then _shoot them_." He turned away from the men and headed back to his pallet. "Try another angle," he suggested.

There was a stream of awkward silence from the two detectives. Eric eyed them as he sat on the edge of the cement slab that housed his bed. He noticed that his point of view has shattered their preconceived notions about Nasira's and Lucien's attack. Each man held a look of contemplation on their faces.

"Okay…" Investigator Howell-Thoms murmured, after a few minutes passed. "…if you're correct about the car-jacking theory, then what's the next plausible reason for this attack? Cos, the only other things that I can think of are not pleasant and can cause this whole city to go into a full-panic."

"Like, what exactly?" Downes asked.

"Either this person is some wannabe, serial killer or they have a grudge against your wife. Or, they _know_ _someone_ who has a grudge against your wife and they've decided to seek retribution," the other detective assumed.

Investigator Downes glanced at Eric. "Does your wife have any enemies? Or, did she have a disagreement with someone and it had got bad?"

"No." Eric gently shook his head. "I'm sure that she has had some disagreements with people. But I doubt that they would want to kill her because of it." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Your "serial killer" theory sounds more believable than the other one, if you ask me."

"Well, either one will do… And we're going to check all leads and explore every possible angle," Investigator Downes reported.

"I have the faith that you will, officers," Eric announced. He slid himself across the pallet and rested his back against the wall. He glanced at the officers. "Anything else?"

"Dauntless Leader Coulter, we have received word from the hospital about your son. We were informed that he is out of surge—

"I know," the faction leader groaned. "I know."

"How did—

"My brother-in-law sent word… Courtesy of one of his officers. He told me everything."

Both inspectors took a gander at each other. "Well…" Investigator Downes sighed. "…I guess that we've covered our bases with you…" He glanced at the imprisoned man. "…If there's any information that you've think would be beneficial for us, then please contact us."

Eric let out a wry chuckle. "I would… Except… I am stuck in here and won't likely get the chance to use a phone."

"Well, _you did_ punch out the Chief of Investigations…" Investigator Howell-Thoms blurted out. When Eric gave him a cold glare, the officer flinched and then looked away. "…Dauntless Leader Coulter," he said softly as he suddenly found 'interest' in the iron bars.

Investigator Downes kissed his teeth and then his mouth spewed out a smug, growl-like laugh. "He has only done what countless of officers wanted to do, Howie," he pointed out. He gazed into the cell to stare at Eric. "Off the record… Chief Robeson is a Grade-A, prick. He's a damn-good cop, but he's a pretentious prick that loves to throw his weight around. He's also vindictive-as-shit, so expect to be in here for another day… Or, two more days…"

The faction leader scowled at the brawny detective.

"…Then, he'll suddenly have a change of heart and decide to not press charges against you," Downes explained.

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

 _After giving her two hours of "alone time" to clear her head, like she requested, Eric decided to search for her. Even though he was still feeling the effects from undergoing the Empath Therapy, he needed to find her. He wanted to make sure that she was feeling alright._

 _He left the kids with Ixa, Rogue's and Roxy's oldest kid, so he could go out on this search. Eric knew that she wouldn't have gone too far, after all, she didn't take her jeep. Nasira didn't have the patience to handle a trip in the most common and popular venues in the Dauntless territory, so that was out of the question. Plus, he was aware that she would want to avoid other people as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. After narrowing down the list of possible places, Eric had only one place left on his list._

 _Dauntless' own "Founders' Memorial Park"._

 _It was the perfect place to go and to be vulnerable. There were plenty of secluded spots in the park that she could hide in plain sight. With its man-made lake, the public botanical garden, elaborate gazebos and multiple small courtyards, it was perfect place. It was also a favorite haunt of hers._

 _He arrived to the three-thousand acre park, just when dusk was approaching. The Dauntless leader entered the park as the park's patrons were either leaving or they were preparing to make their exit. As he slipped further into the location and came across a passerby, he was given of acknowledgement. Signs that were only bequeathed to faction leaders. He was greeted, which were subtle salutes from elderly couples, frazzled-looking mothers as well as from their children, teenagers. With each acknowledgement, his heart raced and pounded harder against his chest. There was a faint trembling to his hands and jaw. For his sake and for the task at hand, he chalked up his reactions to being side-effects from the day's therapy session._

 _First, he searched the park's most famous spots despite having a nagging feeling that she wouldn't be in those areas._ _Eric found her, close to two hours later._ _Once his sense of curiosity was satisfied, the former faction leader then began to search the small courtyards for his children's mother. He discovered her presence in the sixth courtyard. It was a courtyard that he didn't know existed. It was well-hidden, thanks to its high, ivy-covered stone walls._

 _Once he entered the courtyard, he spotted her sitting on a bench that was in the middle of the setting. She had her back presented to him. Once his blue orbs, locked onto her appearance, he became still with caution. It was at this moment, when he was struck by disorganized snippets from her memories._

 _ _Miss Carole had warned the both of them that this could happen, once they were through with the simulations. Nasira's memories were implanted in his brain. Her thoughts and her emotions were going to feel as if they were originally belonged to him. She informed the budding couple that they would find themselves 'reflecting' a lot. They needed to remind themselves that the memories weren't incidents that didn't happen to them. The Amity psychiatrist said that it would last for a few days and then feelings, along with the memories, would dissipate.__

 _So as he stood there, in the courtyard, feeling the immense emotions that could only come with sadness and heartache, Eric didn't know how he was going to handle this. Right at this moment, Nasira's old experiences were his and her reactions belonged to him. His body reacted in present time to the memories. To her memories._

 _Even with someone like Eric, he felt his ironclad-like, emotional guard crack and crumble into dust._

 _With the waves of bitter nostalgia passed, Eric made his first move of communication. "Nass?" he called out. He immediately took note of the strain that was coated in his voice._

 _The mother of his children didn't give Eric a response. Nasira remained silent and motionless like the courtyard's grand scupture. A tendril of concern managed to nip its way to the forefront of his mind._

 _"Nass?" Eric took a few steps into the courtyard. Warily, he stared at the back of her head._ _His skin grew numb and cold._ _He knew that he couldn't blame the weather, after all, it was a balmy summer's day. "N-Nass… You're starting to… Make me f-f-feel… I am concerned, for you." He continued to walk towards her current location. "Nassy, can you please say something? Anything? Please?" He grew silent and began to wait for a response. He waited for part of a minute and when she didn't utter a word, he repeated himself. She remained silent and still.._

 _"—cos, she knows what I want!"_

 _Another got-damned memory crept into his consciousness._

 _He was pressed against a wall in his small kitchen. The fear was thick. He thought that he was going to die. His heart was racing. Tears stung at the rim of his eyelids, begging to be freed. As he pressed himself against a wall, he stared at the man that was causing all of these tumultuous feelings. 'Not the man... His behavior. It's the Wept,' your intuition kept repeating to you, correcting you. Eric didn't look like himself. He was a ghastly version that looked like he belonged in a Halloween display. Red, eyes that were swollen. His skin was two shades lighter than pale and was glistening with sweat._ _He wasn't himself, either. He behaved erratic and he was so angry at him. He spewed statements that made him physically recoiled from shock and then from embarrassment. Embarrassment, as in being ashamed for not being the man that he wanted._

 _A growl of contempt escaped his throat after being faced with that memory. His face grew hot with shame. He was ashamed for spitting out those horrible things to his fiancee. Even though the man couldn't recall that incident, his regret filled his spirit. The feeling intensified, when he quietly assessed about which factor embarrassed him the most: his deplorable behavior towards Nasira or the crystal-clear picture of how far gone he was while on the Wept._

 _Eric came to a stop, when he stood in front of the bench that was behind her. He was close enough to reach out and touch her, which was an urge that he was beating down. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and he just gazed down at her._

 _"Nass…" He paused. The lump in his throat expanded, making it difficult for him to speak. A warbled, light titter fell passed his lips but it reflected his uneasiness rather than his joy. "N-Nass…" The stinging from his eyes made the former faction leader to look away. "…I'm sorry." A gruff exhalation left his nose and his jaw was barely restraining the chattering. "Y-You… I shh-should-shouldn't b-b-bah-be able to even ask f-for forgiveness-ss-sss." His right hand clutched his left hand and he proceeded to squeeze. Pain, to distract him from the thoughts that roamed in his head. He needed to gain control of himself. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath. The chattering from his jaw lessened. "I've had hurt you," he declared before opening his eyes. He gazed down at her. "I had hurt you, Nasira and… I'm sorry for what I've done to you and what I've said to you… I'm so-fuckin' sorry for everything that I've done! You're a… got-damned saint for puttin' up with me and my shit. I should be fuckin'…" He tried to figure out the right words to say; to let her know that she was worthy and deserved better. He grew flustered. He began to stammer out syllables and fractured words. "…I-I-I should be… Kissing your feet and building…" An insecure giggle fell from him. "…you altars all through Chicago, for being the woman that you are!" He released a few shuddering breaths. "I've treated you wrong. I've treated you in a way that you've didn't deserve. I didn't…" His head slightly bowed forward. His fingers reached up to his face and collected the spent tears that were soiling his cheeks. Once his cheeks were dry, he lifted his head back up. "I… Should've been protect…"_

 _The impending words that were about to fly out of his mouth abruptly died. They were forgotten. Eric didn't allow Nasira's hands to reach for her face. He didn't allow a tear to land on any of her palms. Quick reflexes and even quicker feet allowed the remorseful man to scoop her up. His arms carried her ample body and kept her in his embrace. He felt her fingers snatch up the collar of his shirt as her face tucked itself into the nape of his neck. He listened to her body-shaking sobs and felt her heated tears decorate his skin._

 _"Nass, I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry." He nuzzled the puffy cloud of sweet-smelling curls. "I'm sorry, baby."_

Eric tucked the memory into the background of his mind, once he heard the familiar thunder-like sound invade the long corridor. 'New visitor,' his instinct told him. He released an exhale and looked away from the brick wall that was several feet across from him. His blood-smeared fingers dried his cheeks. As the corridor's walls became decorated with footsteps, Eric slipped from his pallet and stood by his bedside. He sighed and rolled his shoulders.

 _"Errr-ric?!"_

His head snapped up and his wide eyes stared out of his cell. _'Rogue?!'_

"Errr-ric?! Where are ya, man? This hallway is big-as-hell!"

"Roe!" he shouted out.

"Eric!" he heard his brother-in-law call out. "Where are you?! There's about thirty cells in here!"

"Hold on! I'll be there in a…"

He briskly trekked over to the bars. He slipped his right arm in between the bars and he stuck his appendage out, into the hallway. He began to wave his hand frantically, in hopes of getting his brother-in-law's attention. "Roe!" he shouted again. His lips folded and a sharp and loud whistle was shot into the isolated wing. "Roe!" He removed his arm and then pressed his face into the space between the bars. He tried to peer into the hallway to see Rogue and alert him about his location. "Roe! I'm towards the other end of the hallway! On the right side!"

"Err—Man!" Then, there was the sound of rushing footsteps beating down on the hard, tiled floor. Seconds later, Rogue appeared on the other side of the bars.

Eric took in the sight that was in front of him. Rogue, a man that was a fan of being in polished style, was in wrinkled, black medical scrubs. He also still wore his hair cap. He decided on the assumption that his brother-in-law must've been at work, when he received the call about Nasira and Lucien. He also noticed that appearance of redness in the whites of his eyes and the glossy sheen that covered the entire surfaces.

Rogue's eyes gone wide as he took in his imprisoned, brother-in-law's appearance. There was a low, but sharp, gasp.

Eric knew where Rogue was staring. He even made a brief observation of his clothes as he stood there. He knew that he looked like he decided to use his tank top and sweatpants to clean up Nasira's blood. But now wasn't the time to think about his appearance. "Roe!" he unkindly announced. It worked because he watched his brother-in-law snap out of the reverie that he was placed inside. "What's happening with Nasira and Luke?" he asked, with an urging. "Trigger sent one of his foot soldiers to tell that Luke was—

"Luke is out of the danger zone," Rogue told him. His voice lacked the usual jovial nature; it was unsteady. "That's… That's why I am here, man. Luke is in a stabled condition. The surgery was a success." He let out a wistful laugh. "That kid, man… He's a fighter. You and Nassy did good with him, Eric."

"How's he doing?" Eric spoke in a soft tone. As he spoke, he began to think about his little boy. The lump in his throat returned, along with the burning tears in his eyes. "Were you able to see him?" he asked with a shaking voice.

Rogue's head nodded. "Yeah… Yeah-yeah-yeah, I saw him after he was discharged from the O.R. He looked like he's been through hell, I'mma be honest about that. But, he is alive and on the road to recovery and that's all that matters. He… He's going to be like other little boys again. The liver is an organ that regenerates and a spleen… It's like having a gold-plated ladle: it's nice to look at, but you don't really need it, so…"

A low snicker was spat from Eric's lips. Thank God for Rogue's existence. Even in turbulent and traumatic times, he knew when to throw out a zinger.

"And also, he has a scar now. On his head. You know that he's going to think that it looks real, bad-ass, once he sees it," his brother-in-law pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed, still with a bit of laughter attached to his answer.

 _"_ _Dad?"_

 _"_ _Yeah?" Eric muttered, sounding uninterested, which wasn't the truth._

 _"_ _When am I going to get some cool scars like the ones that you have?"_

 _Eric turned his view away from his tablet's screen and he glanced over his right shoulder, to stare at Luke. He took note at how his son was enthralled by the appearance of his scarred back. His healed flesh released tingles every time a tiny fingernail did a swipe across the smooth, keloids' surface. For a brief moment, his head filled up with memories of that day. The day that he "died". He banished those thoughts with a mere exhalation. He returned his focus back on his son. "Most likely… When you're older and when you're going through your initiation," he explained. He turned around and stared at the blackened screen._

 _"_ _Mama said that I don't have to choose Dauntless," Lucien told him._

 _Eric sensed the teasing tone in his son's voice. This topic was always a source of entertainment for the boy. To be more precise, listening to Nasira and him "debate" about Lucien's future faction, was a source of entertainment for the kid. Eric's lips tugged into a smirk. "Well son, your mother sometimes don't make the best guesses. Ask her about the Thanksgiving dinner that she cooked during our first year of marriage."_

 _Lucien chuckled. "Okay."_

The memory brought forth a subtle smile for the leader.

"...still out of it. But his vitals… Everything is fine," reported Rogue. "Hopefully, we can get you out of here before he wakes up."

Eric glimpsed at Rogue. "About that… I—

"I know," Rogue simply stated. "I asked for you, when they were brought in. A cop told me that you were arrested for beating the shit out of their chief."

"I didn't…" He gruffly exhaled. " _Beat him up_ … I just… _Punched_ the fucker," he explained. "He was holding me there, even after the paramedics had come to take Nass and Luke away. Kept asking me questions and actin' like I was the one who did this."

"Well, both Max and Xerxes are trying to get you out right now, from the last time that I heard from my Unc."

Eric nodded his head, understanding the hidden implication behind that "talk" they will have. He stared at his brother-in-law. "What about Nassy, Roe? Do you know anything?" The faction leader watched that meager portion of light disappear from Rogue's eyes. The reaction made Eric feel uncomfortable. _Very_ uncomfortable. "Rogue… What's happening with my wife?"

A grimace touched Rogue's face. He took a huff of air into his lungs before he spoke up. "It's _serious_ , Eric. She…"

'She, _what_ , Roe?' He took a hard swallow.

"… One… Of the bullets that hit her had found its way in her small intestine. It has managed to do some serious damage."

Eric wasn't savvy, when it came to the study of medicine and the human body. However, he wasn't too ignorant to not know that the small intestine was a vital organ for a human. His skin bristled a chill that came with his sense of dread, stuck to his skin. 'No, don't think that way,' his conscience told him. He took a deep breath and squeezed a pair of bars in his hands. 'Focus.' He glanced away from Rogue as he made the inquiry of "What are they doing about it?"

"They… Removed some of it. Her small intestine, I mean. The bits that were damaged from the bullet. Now…" Rogue made a glimpse towards the end of the hallway. "…they are trying to retrieve any and all of the bullet fragments and then they are going to try to make some sense of what to do with her intestine," explained Rogue.

"Is she going to be okay?"

Rogue's tear-filled eyes stared down at his brother-in-law. There was a half-hearted shrug of the shoulders. "I… I don't know, to be quite honest with you. I don't…" His voice wandered off. He then glared at his feet. "I don't know, man."


	4. Chapter Three: Numb

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : Hey! Hey! Hey! *shrugs shoulders* Okay, that's all I've got to say.

Thanks to every one that has read this story so far. Thanks to the people, who have left reviews. Thanks to the people, who have 'favorited' my story or for me.

Please continue to do so.

 **RATING** : RATED M FOR **'MATURE'/NC-17**

 **WARNINGS** : **THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT THEMES, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, STRONG SEXUAL SUBJECT MATTER, REFERENCES TO SEXUAL MATTER AND ADULT LANGUAGE**. ALSO, **THIS STORY IS AN A/U DIVERGENT FANFIC** (SO, please don't come to me, crying/whining about how 'Eric' wouldn't act this way... blah-blah-blah...). ALSO, **CHARACTERS FROM THE 'DIVERGENT' SERIES ARE OOC** , IN THIS STORY (Well, the ones that are mentioned in this story).

 _DISCLAIMER_ : I DON'T OWN ANY RIGHTS TO THE 'DIVERGENT' SERIES. OR, ANY RIGHTS TO THE CHARACTERS FROM THE 'DIVERGENT' SERIES. EVERYTHING OF THAT NATURE BELONGS TO VERONICA ROTH. I JUST OWN RIGHTS TO EVERY O/C THAT IS IN THIS STORY. "OUTSTANDING" BY THE GAPP BAND IS ANOTHER AWESOME CREATION THAT I CANNOT TAKE CREDIT FOR.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Numb**

 **~*oMLo*~**

It has been less than three hours since Rogue's departure. Before he left, he made sure that his brother-in-law was properly taken care of. Eric was gifted with some clean clothes and toiletries, courtesy of the county jail's staff administration. He swiftly cleaned himself, using a primitive brand of cleaning, thanks to the cell's sink and soap dispenser. Then, Rogue disappeared for close to an hour and returned with a hot meal for the faction leader. He gave Eric another round of condolences and assurances for Nasira's safety before he made his final departure for the night.

Once again, Eric was left alone. He noticed the discarded, bloody clothes that were left on the cell's floor. He gave them a lingering, wary glare as he kicked them over into a corner of the small chamber. After forming the small pile, he could no longer ignore his hunger and neglect his physical well-being. As soon as he removed the protective packaging and peered down at his meal, he knew that this meal was home-cooked.

'Hexa…' he silently concluded with a smile on his face. He knew it. He was sure of it. He would recognize the delicious smell that came from the fried chicken and the mashed potatoes. A deeper smile crept onto his face, when his brain conjured up a memory. He was able to rehash the moment with an astounding sense of clarity.

 _"_ _So… You like her chicken?" he heard Nasira asked their son and daughter._

 _His eyes performed a travel from his own plate, across the dining table and to the satisfied faces of their babies. He witnessed both Lucien and Zola enthusiastically nod their heads, as each of their faces held grease-decorated smiles and bulging cheeks that were stuffed with food._

 _"_ _What about you?" There was a multi-second pause before there was an "Is it better than mine?"_

 _Eric's teeth stopped their task of consuming the latest bite of the poultry confection as soon as he heard his voice's inquiry. He didn't need to take a peek at her to know that she was talking and glaring at him. He could feel that mild heat that came with her staring, on his face and right ear. 'Shhh…' His jaw performed a slow bite onto that portion of his meal that was stuffed in his mouth, as if it was checking to see if was okay to eat. His eyes rolled in their sockets and they aimed their focus on his plate, with the sounds of their kids' muffled laughter serving as a soundtrack. He eyed the plate and noticed the small pile of chicken bones and the remnants of what used to be side dishes. He quickly calculated that this was his third serving of the meal that Hexa has made. '…it—_

 _"_ _You don't got to answer her, Eric!" Hexa cheerfully pointed out._

 _Soon, he felt the diminutive, visibly-pregnant woman's form after she managed to slip into the small space that was in between both he and Nasira. She, then, added another small pile of her garlic-flavored, mashed potatoes to his plate._

 _"_ _We all know the answer, honey! You don't have to lie to her!" Then, one of Hexa's infamous cackles penetrated the dining room's atmosphere. It was followed by a wave of laughter from the other dining guests. She gave Eric's right shoulder a playful nudge with her elbow before she waddled away._

 _The faction leader and current fodder for the family's jibes stared at Hexa's retreating form and his sight ended up clashing into a pair of familiar brown eyes. He quickly detecting the delicate, teasing smile on Nasira's lips. By the time she glanced down at the nursing Augustus, the smile was full-blown, toothy grin._

A laugh was the cause that lured the troubled man from his stream of thoughts. Underneath the waves of laughter that came from him, there was a twinge of disappointment that was blooming inside of his soul. He realized that he was daydreaming, at that moment. He was still a captive, in a jail cell. Nasira was still battling for her life in an Erudite hospital while doctors were trying to salvage whatever was left of her insides. That fact alone caused the laughter to have an abrupt end. Eric glanced down at his plate and felt his appetite for the perfect confection disappear.

 _'I don't know, man… I don't know.'_

Rogue's words managed to come back to him. It instantly brought back the dreadful feelings: the lump in his throat, the chilly waves that danced along his skin and the case of gut-churning queasiness.

'I can't lose her,' his brain whimpered. 'I-I can't…'

 _"…_ _Wish that I could love you now  
In a special way_

 _You light my fire  
I feel alive with you, baby  
You blow my mind  
I'm satisfied_

 _Outstanding…"_

 _"_ _Can I tell you something?" he heard her whisper into his ear._

 _Eric knew about her arrival seconds before he felt her touch. He looked away from the dancing crowd that was twenty or so feet away from where he was sitting. He turned his head to attempt to glance at her, from over his right shoulder. The high peak of his right cheek was bathed in her peppermint-scented breath and a slight grazing from her plush lips. The sensation caused the hairs on the back of his neck and tatted forearms to bristle with delight. A teasing smirk grew on his pink lips. "What is it that you want to tell me?" he asked._

 _She took a breath before you answered him. "I wanted to tell you…" She paused for a millisecond. "I wanted to tell you, kind sir… That you're incredible."_

 _'_ _Wah-what…?' His eyes widened in diameter while a warmth flooded his cheeks and his heart unleashed a few heavy thumps against his chest. Unbeknownst to the intimidating leader, a small bud of redness exploded in his face, causing a deep blush to form._

 _Nasira's hands came to rest on his broad shoulders and gave them a soft squeeze before they drifted down his thick, shirt-covered arms. She made a sweeping caress and then drew her arms around his neck to form a loose hug. She drew her face into the nape of his neck, where she gifted his skin with a soft kiss. Her lips found the shell of his right ear. "You're a wonderful man, Eric Coulter… Despite the mistakes that you've made in the past. You're learning, babe. You're human. That's part of what makes you incredible. You take care of me. You take care of our babies. You're addressing all of the stuff that you didn't want to face and you're learning how to change. You're doing that… And I'm proud of you for doing this." Her lips kissed his ear before drifting back down. "There are other parts of you that's incredible, too…" He sensed that there was a smile on her face. "…and I am hoping that I can play with them after the kids fall asleep, tonight," she jested._

 _Both allowed their laughter to fly as they eyed the dancing guests, which included Hexa and Rogue, the guests of honor._

 _A moment later, he breathed out "I wish that I had shown you…"_

 _"_ _Mmmm?" she hummed as she rested her chin on his right shoulder._

 _"…_ _how happy I was…" His head slightly turned, so he could catch a glimpse of her. "…on our day."_

 _"You didn't have to tell me, Eric…" she reported to him._ _Her hands gave his shoulders a caress._ _"…I knew."_

 _"_ _Pssshhh…" was hissed. It came from the office's doorway and it sailed across the spacious room, over to his desktop._

 _Eric's fingers stopped working the pen across the document's surface. A sly smile approached his lips as his eyes lifted away from the contract and focused on his office's entrance. He spotted the familiar, heavenly figure that belonged to his wife. She was casually leaning against the doorframe. There was a smile on her face and a resounding glow to her skin. He noticed that she was being a rebel tonight, once he spotted the pink-colored, floral dress that he loved seeing her in. His eyes gave her body a slow perusal, starting from the halo of brown coils and ending at her sandaled feet. At her feet, there was a food storage bag._

 _"_ _I bought you dinner," she revealed, with a smile._

 _"_ _I bought you dinner, babe," Nasira swiftly announced as she strutted into his home office, approaching his desk. In her left hand's clasp, there was a plate that was wrapped in a thin layer_ _of_ _aluminum foil. Her right hand was busy zipping up her thick, black parka. Her knitted, wool hat was carelessly mounted on her head, making her coils stick out in the form of disarrayed puffs. "Sorry that I can't…" She placed the plate on his desk, right on top of the stack of surveillance photos. "…stick around and talk and stuff. But I have to go to Luke's school for that Parent… Teacher… Thing. And I don't want to be late!" Her glossy, full lips puckered and she blew a kiss in his direction. "Love you," she declared, before turning away._

 _"_ _Love you," she announced with a bright smile on her slightly-puffy face._

 _As he listened to the current guest speaker from the conference call, he peered down at the stack of plastic food storage bins that she has left on his desk. A warmth flooded his face, once he recognized the fact that she cooked for him, despite her current pregnancy-related illness. The last time he had seen her, for the day, she was hovering over their toilet's seat, spewing up her eaten breakfast._

 _"_ _Don't work too hard, babe," she warned him, before she turned her pregnant body away from his desk and into the door's direction._

 _"_ _Lah…"_

 _Zola's sudden burst of babbling drowned out her voice. She glanced at their two-year-old. She gave the toddler a quick and playful jostle as she held onto the child. Her left index finger tapped the child on her arm. Once she had Zola's focus, she pointed over to him._

 _"_ _Zee-Zee, say…" Nasira waved at him with her left hand._

 _Eric saw his wife mouth the words 'bye-bye, daddy'. He stared at Zola, who just giggled and pointed over to him. He brought his right hand up and then waved. "Bye, Zee! Bye-bye!" He watched her tiny hand reach out and wave._

 _"_ _Bye-bye!" the toddler giggled. Both parents laughed._

 _"_ _Bye-bye, baby," he said to her._

 _Nasira glanced at him and mouthed the word 'bye' to him._

 _"_ _Bye-bye! Bye-bye! Bye-bye!" Zola happily chanted._

 _His wife gave him one final glimpse before she turned away. She proceeded to walk to the office's entrance._

 _"_ _Bye-bye! Bye-bye! Bye-bye! Bye-bye…"_

 _Watching Nasira walk away from him had always left the leader with a heavy sensation in his gut. It was so common that he should've been used to the experience already. He understood how Luke would feel, whenever she would drop him off at his day care center, during that first week of attendance. The foolish feeling that once she left, then she wouldn't return._

 _"…_ _Bye-bye! Bye-bye!"_

 _Before she slipped entirely out of his office, her head lingered. She gifted him with a glance and a smile. "Love you," she hummed._

The pressure in his gut became too much for him. The digested contents that were in his stomach rumbled with distaste. Eric knew that he was going to vomit. He placed his neglected plate of food to the side and leapt off of the pallet. He lightly sprinted over to the stainless steel toilet, where he sunk to his knees and gripped the rim, readying himself for the onslaught. It didn't his stomach long to respond. The stone walls were subjected to the grotesque sounds of his retching and dry heaving.

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

 **"** **KHAH-LAAA…"**

Eric was awakened by the abrupt sound. His body slightly jerked against the pallet before his eyes lazily opened. His bleary eyesight landed on the narrow, rectangle-shaped window that was on the adjacent wall. He peered at the darkness that was on display. His instinct unkindly reminded him that he has been imprisoned since the morning of the previous day.

His hearing picked up the sounds of boot-clad feet trekking in the corridor. The steps left loud echoes behind which sounded just as boorish as the Dauntless train. Eric decided, whoever this next visitor was, he wasn't going to move his spot. Chances were, this person couldn't help him at the moment, so fuck the—

"Dauntless…"

His tired, slightly red eyes became wide with surprise. 'Max?!'

"…Leader Coulter…"

Eric quickly got to his feet and looked towards the bars. 'Max…'

"…wha…" The elder faction leader paused. But he didn't stop viewing that younger leader that was currently being held.

"Max…" stated Eric in a voice that registered barely as a whisper. 'Why is he here?' he pondered. He eyed the superior officer with caution. He couldn't understand why the faction's alpha regent leader was visiting him here, since it was the wee hours of morning. 'Why…?'

Nasira's face flashed across his mind.

'Nasira…'

Then, the notion of the worst outcome for this whole incident, came floating into his head. The imagined scene of his lifeless wife as she lain on a morgue's slab, stuck its sharp talons into the forefront of his mind. Images of a funeral pyre as the flames licked at the air, pouring rain from an overcast sky and his four children dressed in black, formal wear plagued his mind.

'…No… No-no-no-no-no! He can't be here to let me—NO! She can't be…'

Instinct led him to the wall of bars, where he stood a foot away from his superior officer.

'Please God, please…'

With stinging eyes, he stared at the older man while his contracting throat allowed him to speak. "M-M-Max… Max—Wha… W-What's wrong with her? Wha-What's wrong with Nass? Is-Is she… Shh-Shh-She… She-she-she…"

A series of snapshots from yesterday's attack began to assault his mind. There were recollections of Nasira's bleeding body and fear-filled face, as well as, Luke's shock-induced, bloody and motionless body as it was strapped down in his car seat. A strangled breath escaped from the young man's throat.

Shuddering breaths accompanied his stammering, as well as, the trails of tears from his eyes. "Puh-Please… She-she didn't… She didn't-didn't-d-d-didn't… Please-please-please, tell me that-that s-s-sh…"

His voice was cut off by his hyperventilation. The wing's corridor rapidly became filled the hyper and violent-sounding, ragged breaths. A murky, gray color covered his vision and blocked his view of the older, Dauntless leader.

"Eric…" he managed to pick up before he felt hands reached out and clasped onto his head. He was encased in hot and callused flesh.

 _He felt his sweating cheeks become bathed in hot, soft flesh. Despite being subjected to terror, his brain also allowed him to have awareness of his current condition._

 _"_ _Okay, Mister Call—I mean, Dauntless Leader Eric… I need for you to…" the small-statured, female initiate calmly told him._

 _"_ _What's going on?"_

 _His frantic blue eyes looked past the girl that stood in front of him and found three more initiates. Two male initiates, along with a second, female initiate. He recognized them. He didn't know if was due to a good thing or a bad thing, at that moment._

 _"_ _It's Dauntless Leader Eric… I think he's having a heart attack…" one of the three had stated as his concerned gaze still stared at him._

 _"…_ _breathe and concentrate on my voice…"_

 _"_ _No, stupid, he's having an anxiety attack!" the chubby boy that stood next to the first boy, who had spoken, corrected his fellow initiate._

 _"_ _Who you're calling 'stupid', you pansy-cake?!" the first boy growled as he leveled the chubby boy a heated glower._

 _"_ _Guys, can you can it?! Now, it's not the time! We gotta help him." The declaration had come from the lone female out of the trio._

 _"_ _What-the-hell can we do?" The question came from the second boy that spoke._

 _"…_ _just breathe and concentrate on my voice, Sir…"_

 _Eric looked back to the girl that was helping him. She was the first person to enter the training room. She was also the person who had found him in this state. He was sitting on the sparring mat, feverishly running his fingers through his hair and enduring the beginning stages of his anxiety attack._

 _"_ _What happened to—_

 _Another kid, a male initiate, came into the training room and joined the fray._

 _"_ _Anxiety attack. We came in here and found him sitting on the sparring mat." The first boy announced in a casual tone._

 _"_ _Guys! Help!" the second girl instructed._

 _Chubby Boy spoke up. "What do you want us to do, Kacey?! It looks like Keely is doing a good job right—_

 _"_ _Pepper, go stand in front of him!" the girl, Kacey, issued out._

 _"_ _Why?"_

 _"_ _So, the cameras won't see him. I don't think he would want the people in the Control Room—_

 _"_ _Ohhh! Okay! Now, I get ya…"_

 _"_ _Dauntless Leader—_

"Eric… Come on and breathe for me," he heard Max's voice kindly dictate to him. "I need for you to calm down, man."

Max's instructions fought the wall that Eric's panic had built up around his awareness.

"…That's it, man. That's it, man…"

Soon after hearing Max's instructions, the harsh and frequent breaths dissipated. His heart stopped feeling as if it was going to either stop or break out of his chest.

"…That's it, Coulter, calm down… That's it, man… Nassy wouldn't want you to be this way, man…"

His legs begged for released from the tension that managed to accumulate from the standing. 'Sit,' his instinct called out to him. Eric's fingers found their way to the bars that were on his eye-level and they wrapped themselves around the thick iron. He held on as his legs gradually folded beneath him.

A few seconds after his butt's arrival to the floor, his awareness made its full return.

"…Err—

"I…" he breathed. "…I'm… Calm," he reported. His teary eyes stared down at his hands. He picked up the image of the thick digit that proudly bore the mark of matrimony.

 _"_ _I love you."_

The appearance of his wife's smiling but sleep-affected, face popped up. Her puffy eyes stare at him as she lain next to him, in their bed. She had just awakened. A hand managed to burrow itself from out of the layers of bedding, just so she could caress him. In the memory, she ran her hand down his upper body before resting her palm against his cheek. It was a daily activity for her, one of the things that she would've done, after waking up.

The fact that he would never experience another one, had struck his soul like it just received a breath-stealing punch. '…She's gone,' his conscience whimpered. 'She's gone…' His kids lost their mother. His youngest, his twin boys, won't know her. His hands reached up to his grimacing face. "She's…" His voice died on him. A soft, cry escaped.

"Eric, man…" Max said softly.

"Nass," he cried into his right palm.

Reminders of Nasira played in his brain as if it was montage from a film.

"Eric… N—

His right hand dropped from his face just as the back of his head came to rest on the bars. "Nass," Eric sobbed.

"Err—

"Sh-sh-she's gone," the younger leader cried.

"No, man…" Max disputed. "…No, she didn't. That's why I am here. I'm here to tell you that she's going to be okay, man," Max confessed.

The grieving husband didn't hear him. He continued to cry and think of his wife.

"Eric, man…"

"She's—

" _No! She's alive!_ " the older man barked. "She's been placed in _the recovery ward_ , Eric! That's what I am here to tell you," Max announced.

 _'_ _She's alive! She's been placed in the recovery ward, Eric! That's what I am here to tell you!'_

 _'_ _She's alive! She's been placed in the recovery ward, Eric! That's what I am here to tell you!'_

 _'_ _She's alive! She's been placed in the recovery ward, Eric! That's what I am here to tell you!'_

 _'_ _She's been placed in the recovery ward, Eric!'_

 _'_ _She's been placed in the recovery ward…'_

 _'…_ _recovery ward…'_

 _'…_ _recovery ward…'_

Eric's brain replayed Max's latest declaration.

 _'…_ _recover…'_

 _'…_ _recover…'_

 _'…_ _recov…'_

'Recovering… She's recovering… She's…She's…She…She-she-she…Eric…She's alive,' his instinct told him.

Pressure filled up his chest and stomach, making his gut groan with displeasure. His heart began to race once more. With a trembling pant attached to his mouth, Eric revealed his tearing eyes to his advisor and confidant. He came upon a face that contained a gentle smile and the expression that could be best described as relief. "She's ah—

"Yes," Max told him with a sense of finality to his tone. "She's alive, Eric. Nasira is _recovering_ … _Right now_."

"She-She's… Alive?" stammered Eric. "She's… Are-are you-you ffff-fa-fa-fucking with me?"

Max tossed his underling a look of chastisement. "Eric, _why-the-fuck_ would I do something like that to you, right now?"

'She's alive,' his mind kept reminding himself. "She's alive?" he said in a soft voice.

"Yes," Max simply stated with a head nod. "At twenty-three hundred and thirty-three, she was given the clearance to leave the O.R. Right now, she is in the I.C.U. at Landsteiner-Popper. Still unconscious. But her vitals are stabled. She will be alright. In a lot of pain… But she will be alright…" he reported. "And, the doctors decided to put Luke in the same room with her. So, they would both know that each other are alive and safe."

"She's alive," he muttered under his breath.

Eric continued to eye Max as he rearranged his position on the floor. Now, he faced the alpha regent as he sat on the dingy, gray floor. He wanted to stand up, but he didn't trust his knees and legs at the moment.

"The surgeons were able to extract every bullet fragment that was located inside of her. This was the main problem, according to the surgeons: Finding all of them and making sure that they haven't forgotten any. Saving her small intestine was the least of their troubles," Max informed the troubled man, of his wife's condition.

'She-she-she-shh-shh-she's alive?! She's—

"Alive," mumbled Eric. "M-M-My wife… She's—

"Yes, Eric. She's alive," Max confirmed, once more.

"She's…" He felt his stomach convulsed. A loud and shuddering breath escaped from his mouth after it formed inside of his chest. His upper body bowed forward, trying to brace this odd sense of discomfort.

"Nasira is going to be okay," the top leader confirmed again. "Eric… I need for you to try to get a hold of yourself. Okay, man? I need for you to get a hold of yourself, okay? Because man… You're about to be admitted into Landsteiner-Popper, yourself. Possibly, for a heart attack or something," Max advised him. "Besides…" He chuckled, "…I don't want your mother-in-law and your wife to kick my ass, if something happens to you, right now".

Even though his body was still reeling from the news, his brain was able to obtain the information. His common sense concluded that Max was indeed correct. The leader's voice was inside of his head. '…get a hold of yourself' was swimming through his mind.

After minutes of silence ticked by, Max interrupted the streak. "How are you feeling right now?"

Eric nodded his head. "Yeah," he whimpered. His blue orbs stared at Max. "I want to see my wife," he requested, with a stronger and confident tone.

Max let out an audible exhale. "Now is not a great time to see her, Eric," he pointed out.

'What?' Eric's eyes narrowed and a crease formed in his brown. 'What do…?' His lips spewed out, "What do you mean by that?" His head slowly and softly shook. "Max… My wife and my son needs me…"

The alpha regent nodded. "I understand that…"

"…I need to see them, Max. I want to be there, when they wake up…"

"…Eric. But there's—

The younger leader suddenly shot up, from off of the floor. His level of irritation was etched onto his reddened face. " _Max… It's my family!_ " His voice managed to shoot out of the cell and spill into the corridor, where it exploded into an echo.

Both men eyed each other with their bodies taut with tension, as if they were awaiting for the other to throw the first punch. Never mind the fact that there was a barricade of iron bars between them. The silence that was shared between them made the energy become chilled.

It was Max, again, who ended up disrupting the mood. A hiss-sounding exhale came from his semi-closed lips. He peered away from Eric and stared down at the stone floor. "Eric…" he groaned. "…I have something to tell you," he confessed.

The tumultuous mood that has fallen between them was soon forgotten, according to the husband and father. A chill clung to his skin and his stomach tightened up, at the notion that there was more bad news.

"What? What is it, Max? Come on and tell me. I-I've been through so much shit within the past twenty-four hours… Come on and tell me what's going on," Eric's lips spewed.

A hand ran across the crown of his head, in a way that expressed his frustration and his apprehension about revealing the news that he was holding onto. A growl-like groan escaped from his throat. Max took in a breath and on the exhale, he uttered, "Eric… We got them, man".

'Got… them. You got…'

The people, who shot both his wife and son. The shooters. The faceless figures that he hated with every bit of his soul. The 'perps'. The sorrow that he has been wading through and occasionally surrendering to, quickly faded. His stomach's growling was the only outward appearance of his blooming rage. In his soul, there was a darkness seeping into his consciousness.

"You got them?" groaned Eric, his tone became infused with a deepness. "Who are they?" As he spoke, he was conjuring up methods of how to torture the fuckers who tried to kill Nasira and Lucien.

Max took a breath and glanced at the bars. "The shooter…"

Eric began to make his way over to the cell's entrance again.

"…is a kid, from the Abnegation faction. His name is Harry Dudley. He's sixteen years-old. Born and raised in the faction. He chose to stay there…"

' _Abnegation_?' The mention of the faction for the selfless caused Eric to take a soft halt during his traveling. ' _He's from Abnegation_? How could a kid from Abnegation…?'

"…He entered our custody, yesterday, at seventeen-hundred. Dauntless Patrol picked the teen up from the office of a midwife, in Abnegation, an hour prior to his booking. The midwife called them. Young, Mr. Dudley had shown up to her office, around fourteen-hundred hours, looking for medical treatment. He had a few deep lacerations to his face, left shoulder and his chest. He also was missing the tips to his right thumb and index finger…"

Eric knew that Nasira was the person, who had caused the injuries. Despite feeling murderous and rage-filled, a smirk slithered onto his face and a twinge of spousal pride filled him.

"…The midwife knew that his injuries weren't done through some home-improvement accident. Plus she became extremely suspicious, when she smelt gunpowder residue on his clothes," Max pointed out.

Eric noticed a glow in Max's dark brown orbs. He, too, carried a sense of pride for Nasira.

"The midwife ended up convincing the dumb-ass to stay in her office, by telling him that she needed to sedate him, in order to close up the lacerations. She gave the kid a mild morphine drip and waited until he was subdued, before she called for Dauntless Patrol. By the time he came to Dauntless, he was high as a kite. But that was alright, because it allowed us to treat his wounds in the infirmary and then toss his ass in a cell and let him sleep it off. He woke up around twenty-three hundred hours."

"What happened next?" Eric asked as he approached the bars. "Did he get interrogated yet?"

Max nodded his head. "Yeah…" His hand performed another swipe at his close-cropped hair. "…Investigators Downes and Howell-Thoms—who you've met—interviewed him. It didn't take them long to get that kid to spill the beans, because he confessed without any backtalk."

" _Why_ …? Did he _do it_?" the young leader groaned. His fiery eyes leveled Max with the hostility that he wished that he could've given to the bastard that almost killed his mate and their son.

"He…" The alpha regent took in a deep breath and released it. "He… He said that he wanted to know what it was like…" He paused, his hesitance of releasing the next bit of information, was evident on his face.

"Max," grunted Eric, a plea for his willingness to continue with his report.

Max closed his eyes and released his exhalation. Once he opened his eyes, he said, "This _'Harry'_ kid… He wanted to know what it was like to _kill someone_. That was one of his reasons for doing it."

A harsh groan seeped from Eric's chest. His hands formed into fists, where his nails dug into the flesh that covered the heels of his hands.

"He claimed that he intended on killing Nasira. He said that he didn't intended on shooting or killing Luke. According to Mr. Dudley, he waited until Nasira had turned her attention to the driver's side before he approached her. He didn't suspect that Luke was there. He said Luke screamed at Nassy and warned her that he was behind her..."

The fact that his eldest son was trying to protect his mother, despite being endangered himself… It caused Eric to feel immense sadness and his chest to respond with a persistent aching.

"…He said that he didn't know if it was out of instinct to shut him up, or, if it was out of anger about Luke warning his mother, but…" Max paused. He didn't need to explain what happened afterwards.

The flashing and horrific memory of Lucien, filled Eric's head. His hands reached out for the bars and they grasped tightly against the rusting metal. He brought his forehead to the bars, where they performed a series of subtle head-butts against the metal. He was trying to bear the brunt of having to remember that moment of when he shoved his own body into the rear of his truck.

"He claims, vehemently, that he didn't set out to shoot or kill Luke…"

'…Luke…'

Eric recalled the screams and the cries that came from his own mouth.

 _'…_ _._ _ **LUKE! COME ON, KID! DON'T-DON'T-DON'T—LUKE! DON'T-DON'T-DON'T—PUH-PLEASE, KID! COME ON, LOOK AT DADDY! LOOK AT DADDY! HELLLPPP-PUH! HELLLPP ME! PLEASE! LOU… LUKE! LUKE, LOOK AT DADDY! LOU…'**_

He remembered the abundant wetness that covered his arms and legs as he held his motionless son in his arms. He remembered how the warmth from Lucien's body was fading from him. There were the smells of polished leather from the truck's seats, the abundant amount of sulfur from the gunpowder and that overwhelming scent of the child's blood, which filled the cabin's atmosphere.

"Eric?"

The call of concern snapped Eric from out his mind and away from the horrific thoughts that occurred on that day. He lifted his head up and he aimed his blurry vision to Nasira's godfather.

Max leveled his underling a look of sympathy. "Do you want me to contin—

"Go ahead," he ordered. His head performed a curt nod. "Tell me."

The superior officer nodded his head and then resumed. "According to—

"This ' _Dudley'_ kid—

"Yes, this _'Dudley' kid_ … After Luke was… Shot… Nassy _lost_ it. She attacked him and defended herself with a knife that she had on her. Like, I've mentioned before… He was severely cut and had a few parts of him severed. He said that he doesn't remember the amount of times that he had shot her, but he remembered only stopping because the gun's chamber ran out of bullets."

"My truck… Most of the bullets had gone into the truck," Eric concluded.

Max's head nodded once. "He said that he was frozen solid and didn't move until he heard someone scream out about calling the police. Then, he said that he looked to his right and saw men running towards him, so he ran."

"Where did he go?"

"Harry said that he ran. Stopped a few times because he felt pain. But he had returned to his home in Abnegation. He lives in one of those studio, row houses that are over there, between a factionless colony and candor. He hid out for a few hours, trying to stop the bleeding from his wounds, by himself. When he realized that he couldn't, he had gone to the midwife's office. He knew that he couldn't have gone to the city hospital," informed Max.

The older leader stopped speaking, to allow Eric to absorb all of the information that was just recited.

"You said that you had _'suspects'_ in custody. Who is the second person and how do they fit into this shit?" Eric groaned, minutes later.

"You're correct…" the older man murmured as he nodded his head. "…There is another perp in our custody. Investigator Downes and Howell-Thoms learned from Harry that there were other reasons why he had shot Nassy and tried to kill her…"

'This was a hit. Pure and simple,' his conscience revealed to him. Just the sheer thought alone made Eric bristled.

"…He was paid to do it. A few hundred credits. Enough to buy a pair of decent shoes or a fridge full of groceries… _And_ … It was also a _favor_ …"

Eric's stomach jerked and then filled up with a knot. The hairs that graced his neck and his arms stood erect while freezing shivers ran down his back. His eyes slightly rose as they stared at Max. ' _A favor?_ … This was definitely personal, then.'

"Harry… Has a friend, by the name of Langley Pimple. He is from Abnegation, too. Like Harry, Langley had chosen to stay in Abnegation, once he turned sixteen. They remain friends, to this day. Langley…" Max pointed at the ceiling. "…has an older brother named Aidan Jackson, former name was ' _Martin Pimple'_. Mr. Jackson is now a Candor. He is also… A _police officer_ for the faction." The leader tossed Eric a knowing look.

"He was the one, who probably provided the gun to Harry," Eric concluded.

" _Exactly_ …" The alpha regent proceeded to back away from the bars. "…So, the investigators had a couple of beat cops go to Candor and pick up Aidan and bring him to Dauntless…" He strolled over into the direction of the empty cell that was across the aisle from Eric's. "…Mr. Jackson…" he grunted. "…Being in Candor has taught him well, because the fucking dickhead wouldn't utter one word. He only made requests for a lawyer. Otherwise than that, he was quieter than a mouse pissing on…"

 _"—_ _on a cotton ball."_

Eric even heard the famous saying in her voice.

"…a cotton ball." Max walked into the empty cell and took a seat on the bench that occupied the cell. The gentle sounds of joints popping filled the air and it was followed by a loud groan of gratifcation from Max. "He didn't say anything, but Downes and Howie _knew_ that he was hiding something. They also knew that Aidan couldn't leave the precinct, because there was a chance that he would've ran. They needed some evidence…" The older leader leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. A hand caressed the back of his neck. "…They obtained an emergency search warrant from a judge in Candor, to search Mr. Jackson's home. So with Mr. Jackson, both detectives made their way to Candor, to his residence. By the time they arrived, the lawyer was waiting for them, in front of the residence."

Eric watched his boss reached to the back of his jacket, where he brushed it aside.

"They weren't even in there for an hour before Investigator Downes found something…" Max told him.

The young man stared at the older man as he pulled out a rolled up newspaper. Max kept the paper wedged in between the small of his back and the waist of his jeans.

"…Downes is built like an elephant…" Max brought the newspaper to his left hand. He stared down at the pile of papers. "…and he has the memory like one, too." With a huff, he stood up from the bench. He strolled over to the cell's entrance and he peered at Eric. "Downes said that if this was a snake that it would've bitten him." Max, then, walked out of the cell and walked across the corridor, back to the entrance of Eric's temporary prison.

Now, since he was up close, Eric detected the trepidation that was coming off of his mentor's body. There was a rigidness in his body. The odorless, invisible entity that was secreting from the older Dauntless warrior caused Eric to take a few steps away from the bars, out of instinct. A chilly breeze appeared and it wrapped itself around him while it gave his heart trembles. "Max…?" he said cautiously.

Wordlessly, the alpha regent slipped the rolled-up paper in the space that was in between two iron bars. A silent order for Eric. With cold eyes, he glimpsed at the paper and then at Eric. His bearded chin did a gentle nudge at the air.

'Pick it up…' Eric's conscience ordered. '…Look.' With a slow intake of breath, he made his return over to the bars. A trembling, right hand reached out. The callused tips of his fingers made a soft graze on the papers' edges before his digits plucked up the newspaper. He glimpsed at the paper and then at Max. "Max… W-W-What is this?" he queried with uneasiness.

"Downes has a good memory. When he saw one of those…" Once again, Max used his chin to point to the newspaper. "…he remembered… _Seeing her_ … With _you_ …"

His eyes narrowed as his mind questioned the underlying point in Max's enigmatic statements. 'What is he…?' He stared down at the curled newspaper, which was still in his right hand. 'What's this?' His fingertips reached for the vertical edges of the papers. 'What's he…?'

"…He remembered that she was at the Banquet Dinner with you, a few years back…"

He split the papers apart by the seam. 'What-the-fuck is he talking about?' Eric proceeded to unroll the newspaper while muttering inquiries in his mind.

"…They weren't introduced to each other, that night. But he remembered her and he remembered seeing her with you…"

' _Who's her?!_ ' Eric said to himself.

"…I've known Downes for over twenty years and I can say that he never forgets a face…"

Eric's deft fingers completed its task of uncurling the newspaper…

… Only to find out that the papers that he was holding weren't part of a newspaper. His brow wrinkled with confusion as his orbs focused on the object that was in his hands. 'What…?' He quickly realized that it wasn't a newspaper, but a small stack of papers. Photocopies of a document. '…What is this?' His hands pulled at the edges of the pile, making the pages stretch out and become straight. His eyes took in the image that was printed on the top page.

"…especially, of a pretty woman…"

Shock managed to slink herself into the cell with Eric. She had rammed her presence into him and infiltrated the space that made up his soul. She blinded him with a bright, white light that transitioned into a blood red, which was followed by a murky shade of gray and then blackness. Her settlement left the young faction leader motionless, voiceless and numb. A stream of ragged, low breaths escaped from between his parted lips. Numbly, he glared down at the photo. His eyes took in the tanned, heart-shaped face that possessed her signature toothy grin. Her almost, almond-shaped eyes were staring up at the man who had managed to unravel his world within twenty-four hours.

"…And Anissa is a pretty woman."


	5. Chapter Four-A: Blowbacks

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** : Hey!

Just... Hey.

I want to see if I can post this 20,000-word chapter in just one chapter on here.

This chapter contains a lot of flashbacks.

 **RATING** : RATED 'M' FOR MATURE/NC-17

 **WARNINGS** : THIS STORY CONTAINS DETAILED DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE. ADULT LANGUAGE. ADULT THEMES. SMUT (STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT). DEPICTION OF DRUG ABUSE. THIS IS AN A/U STORY AND ORIGINAL "DIVERGENT SERIES" CHARACTERS ARE OOC.

 **DISCLAIMER** : I Don't OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT THE OCs.

Thanks for everything!

* * *

'N-No,' his brain exclaimed. 'No-no-no-no…'

"Downes knew that it was possible that those two dating could've been a coincidence, but he's been a police officer for far too long to start believing in coincidences. So… He called me and alerted me that your ex-girlfriend was now dating the man that was responsible for Nassy's and Luke's attack…"

Eric's heard Max's voice, but they were meaningless noises. The younger man was so concentrated on the pictures that were being held in his hands. His brain could only take up the waves of denial that were being handed out to his spirit. '… No. No. No. No…' His anesthetized fingers began to work at the top page's surface.

"…He didn't have to tell me the angle that he was working on, at the moment. I just knew…" Max looked away from the befuddled man and stared at the floor. "I just knew." He glanced over at Eric. "I told Downes to keep me posted with updates. And he did…. Downes… He pressed Jackson about Anissa. That smarmy prick kept giving him short answers…" Max proceeded to turn his back to Eric. "…According to Jackson, he and Anissa began 'dating' thirteen months ago. He met her in a Candor clinic, when a group of Dauntless doctors had gone over there for a volunteer mission. He knew that their relationship was forbidden, you know, ever since she was from here and he's a Candor. But, he found the whole thing to even more exciting for him…" Max rolled his eyes as he pressed his back against the bars. "Downes informed him that they knew he had paid Harry to attempt to kill Nasira. He told the Candor cop that they knew Anissa had put him up to it. Persuaded him to set this whole thing up. He denied it, of course. Claimed that he had nothing to do with the shootings. Claimed that Anissa didn't have anything to do with the shootings. So, Downes then asked him if he thought that it was a coincidence that the ' _love of his life'_ used to date you… And that you're currently married to the woman that was shot."

After having his thumbs scrape at the smooth surface, the top page finally lifted away from the stack and out of his clutches. The paper floated like a leaf in a breeze as it made its way to the floor. There was another picture of Anissa. This time, she was facing the camera's lens. She had the infamous piers as her background. She was displaying her fiery self in this snapshot by posing with her hands holding up her hair and winking at the cameraman.

His fingers peeled the photo away to reveal the photo that was underneath. It was a picture of both Aidan Jackson and of her. They were sitting at a small, round table in a restaurant. Both were sitting extremely close to each other and with their heads almost butting into one another. Both held smiles on their faces as she eyed the camera. He was staring at her with an expression that Eric was very familiar. A look that he used to give her for over thirteen years, the last occurrence happened close to eight years ago.

 _The strength in his battered, rough hands greatened around her dainty wrists. He wanted to fucking break those fine instruments like they were twigs over a knee. "You fuckin'… Connivin'—_

 _A coquettish giggle fell from her smiling mouth. That sickening, sweet fragrance of hers… It kept fucking with him. Her brown eye_ s _stared up at him. She didn't have one trace of fear evident on her beautiful face. "You're going to kill me, Eric?" she swooned. "How…" Her voice was huskier than its usual lilt, the sign that his heavy weight was affecting her. "…apropos," she groaned._

His fingers flicked the photo away.

The photograph that was underneath was of Anissa as she slept in what appeared to be a bed.

"Downes claimed that Jackson still denied everything. But, his face looked as if he had something to get off of his chest. Howie came up with an idea. He asked Downes to call me again. Then he asked Downes to ask me to email him any pictures that I had of Anissa and you, as well as, pictures of Nassy and y'all wedding day… Which was something that he did do. That was something that I wasn't expecting. I needed Jayla's help with that one because I don't know computer-stuff too well. She wasn't too happy being awakened at midnight to find some pictures and then having to email them to Downes and Howie. But she did it for me, anyway." A wry chuckle came from the leader. Max glanced over his left shoulder and peered into the cell. He observed the strewn paper that decorated the cell's floor. "Once Jackson saw those photos, he cracked…" He peered up at Eric. "…Downes said that he started to blubber and cry like a kid with a skinned knee…"

Eric focused on the loving couple as they tried to take a 'selfie' with each other. Aidan stood behind the diminutive Anissa and both of them were smiling for the camera.

"…He confessed right then and there… The lawyer was present and asked him if he wanted to confess right there. He said 'yes'…"

In the next photo, she was in the midst of walking a snow-covered, Chicago street when the photo was taken. She was dressed for the weather, in all black. She gave the cameraman a sideways glance and a smirk.

"…so it's admissible in court…" Max paused in his speech, so he could look down the corridor, at both ends. Once he was able to pop out the kinks that were stored in his neck, he resumed speaking. "Mr. Jackson said that the idea of killing Nassy happened over two months ago. He said that Anissa had a plan already set, by the time she had asked him to do it. The original plan was for _him_ to do it. To make it look like it was a car-jacking that had gone bad. Make it look like a factionless man had tried to rob her and he shot her during the process. He thought that it was a good idea. A plausible idea. But he didn't like the idea of him doing the dirty work. So… He decided to revamp her idea. Rather than for him to pull the trigger…" Max looked into the cell, again. "…get someone else to do it…"

The older, Dauntless leader noticed that Eric wasn't reacting in a way that he expected. There wasn't any outward displays of rage from the younger faction leader. He just stood in the center of cell, motionless and observing every photocopy that was in the pile. With the ones that he grew tired of staring, he tossed them to the floor.

This wasn't a good sign. The alpha regent knew this man for close to eleven years. He knew well enough about this younger leader. A 'quiet' Eric, after he experiences a form of injustice, wasn't an Eric that was going to take the mistreatment lying down.

Max stared straight ahead. "…This is where Harry comes into play. Aidan remembered Harry being a creepy, little shit that idolized old-ass, serial killers from hundreds of years ago, so he figured that he could ask Harry to do it…Aidan said that he didn't know…"

Blue orbs stared down at a photograph of his former lover. In this photocopy, the Dauntless physician was dressed only in a baggy, white sweater. Her right shoulder peeked out from underneath the wide and flexible collar. She was sitting in a red, velvet straight-back chair. In the background, there was a wood-panel wall. Her long and bare legs were folded and positioned close to her upper body. Her honey-colored gaze was aimed to the camera. Her full, pink lips formed a tight-lipped smile.

"…that Nasira was your wife. He thought… That she… Ummm…" Max suddenly clammed up.

"'He thought…'what?"

Max looked at Eric, from over his right shoulder. He was feeling mildly surprise that the young man spoke up. He was startling silent since he gave him the photocopies. He turned around and stared at Eric. "Eric?" he said into the cell, in an insecure tone of voice. He wanted to make sure that it was indeed Eric, who had just spoken and not a figment of his imagination. Seconds later, the stoic face lifted up and he was bathed with a blue-eyed gaze. The energy that came from them caused a chill to run up Max's spine.

"' _He thought_ …' what, Max?" growled Eric. With his tone, he was making his impatience and rage evident.

Max took a breath; to calm the uneasy waters that made up his spirit, before he spoke again. "According to… Aidan… Anissa… She accused Nasira of… ' _Torturing_ ' her. That was Aidan's words. The story goes… Around two months ago, Aidan noticed that Anissa was acting differently. She was sad. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want him to touch her. To hug her. To hold her hand. To… You know… Have sex with him. Sooo… He started to think of the worst. He thought that she was seeing someone. Long story short…" He gave out a gruff exhale. "He confronted her. Asked her what-the-hell was wrong with her? He—

"She told him that she was raped, didn't she?" Eric stated, interrupting Max.

The older man took in an inhale and nodded his head as he exhaled. "That was _one_ of the things that she said happened to her," he confessed.

" _Anissa… Wha-What's w-w-w-w-w-rong?! You-You are-aren't ta-ta-tha-the same!" There were questions running through his mind as he briskly walked down Grove Place. He kept his eyes on Anissa a_ s _she took quick and long strides, in front of him._

 _"Eric… Just leave me alone," she whimpered, crossing her arms over her chest._

 _"Ah-Ah-Anissa, I-I woo-won't le-le-leave you—_

 _She came to an abrupt halt. She turned to him. "Eric… Leave. Me. Alone. Now!" she growled. Her arms unfurled from their holding space. Her small hands gave his chest a hard shove._

 _His big, clumsy feet made a series of backwards steps while his arms slightly flailed, in effort to regain his balance. But the effort proved to be a waste. His five-foot, six-inched, skinny frame collided with the smoothly-paved, asphalt._

 _Once on the ground, Eric stared at his distraught girlfriend. Tears decorated her face. Even with the night's sky behind her, he thought that she looked heavenly and like a goddess. Even still… After the confession that she just made to him. He felt cold. Numb. This wasn't something that he expected to hear from her. He expected—Wanted—the reason behind her standoffish behavior for the past couple of weeks, to be about her mother and their strained relationship. He didn't expected_ _to hear this._

 _He slowly rose to his feet. His hands absent-mindedly brushed away the dust and dirt that the curb carried. That ice-cold numbness started to chip away, the longer he had had to listen to her demure cries and watch her contorted face express pain. In its place, there was a malevolent warmth. It was a sensation that he was familiar with. He was also familiar with the niggling thoughts that filled his brain. They were imagined thoughts of carnage and death. They usually were reserved for Deborah, for the times that she would come home, drunk and ornery._

" _Wha-Wha-Wha-aat… What's his-ss-ss na-na-name?" he stammered, as he stared down at his girlfriend._

 _"Err-Eric… Please… Just…" Her voice died off. Her face formed a somber grimace as more tears seeped from her squintin_ g _eyes._

 _"Wha-Wha-What's h-h-his na-na-name, Anissa?" he repeated himself._

 _"Err—_

 _"D-D-Da-Da-Does he liv-liv-live in Err-Err-Err-Erudite?"_

 _"Eric, please—_

" _Ah-knee—_

 _"Yes! Yes! He lives in Erudite! He… Always… Ben-Been… Here," she confessed._

 _"Na-Na-Name, Ah-Ah-Ah-knee…_ She ah-sah!"

" _Why you wanna know?"_

 _"Na—_

 _"Edwin Kincaid. His name… It's Edwin Kincaid. He's—Right now—an initiate," she said softly. Watery eyes looked up to him, in a way that caused an unfamiliar, but pleasurable chill to run down his body. "Eric… What are you thinking about do-doing to him?" she asked, sounding both fearful and concerned._

 _His lips quivered, before words were able to spill from his mouth. "I-I-I… D-D-Don't know. But I'll t-think of something_."

 _Her light brown eyes took on a glaze. She chewed on her plump, pink bottom lip for a few seconds before she uttered. "If… You're a-able to think… Of some…Thing… I want to help you."_

 _"_ She claimed that when she was fifteen, she was kidnapped by a group of her classmates, on her way home from school. She said that these were kids that bullied and harassed, when she was a kid, so she was afraid," Max alerted Eric. "Aidan said that Anissa made claims that the boys raped her and the girls had tortured her. She said that all of this happened _over a th_ ree-day span. She managed to escape and run to her apartment." Max took in a breath and ran his fingers across his forehead, collecting the thin layer of perspiration that manage to collect. "She claimed that Nasira was one of her torturers. Aidan said that after she revealed all of this to him, she became obsessed with getting revenge on her. She would talk about seeing Nassy, when she would visit the infirmary and feel like she wanted to kill herself." He grimaced. "He said that she basically acted like this, for months, up until two days ago. He said that once there was word about a woman and kid getting shot going around, she stopped talking about it. She didn't question him about his involvement. She didn't ask him if he committed the act. He said that when he told her that the job was done, she didn't harp on it. Anissa didn't gloat about it. She had just… Stopped."

'She got what she wanted,' Eric surmised. 'That's why she stopped talking about it…. And that's what mattered to her.' He glimpsed down at the photograph again. The one that had Anissa posing as she sat in a chair.

"What I'm trying to figure out…" Max stated.

Eric gave the photo a final glimpse. With a sneer on his face, he tossed the remaining bit from the pile to the floor. His hands had gone to his shoulder-length curls and gave it a run-through. Then he rested his palms on the top of his head with his arms akimbo. He closed his eyes and tilted his face to the ceiling. 'I just… I just want to get out here… Nass… Luke… Zee, Auggie and Zephyr… I just want my fuckin' family, man…' He was enraged, but the need to be around his family was greater, at the moment.

"…why did she go through all of this, when you've been broken up…? For like, what? Seven years?!" questioned Max.

"Max."

"Yeah, Eric?"

"This stuff?" Eric said into the air. He kept up the same position.

"Yeah?"

"Does the Grant family know that you have the shooter and this 'Aidan' guy in custody? And, do they know that this was a ' _murder-for-hire_ ' thing?" Eric queried.

I"No, I haven't told the Grants anything… At least, not yet," Max confessed. "I want to wait until we have Anissa in our custody before I tell them."

'Well, there goes 'Plan B',' his brain muttered with distaste. He knew that if he couldn't get his hands on Anissa, then his in-laws were damned sure capable of hunting her down. His lips spewed a low raspberry before he turned his back to Max. He stared out of the window, at the sky, which was now displaying a lavender-color and gray clouds.

A silence had fallen over the jail's wing. Both men allowed the sounds from the prison, both natural and man-made, to take over. Under the waves of creaking pipes, the faint sounds of far-away conversations and breathing, Max eyed the troubled man that stood in the cell. Eric kept his broad back to him, his hands resting on his head and staring out of the window. He looked as comfortable as an Amity peanut farmer, but Max knew better. Eric might've looked like he had a handful of problems, but he knew that it was quite the opposite. He quietly carried the load of troubles that could make up two lifetimes, in Max's eyes.

To Max, Eric has always been an intriguing, yet troubled, person. Since the young man's first descent into Dauntless, on his initiation day. At the time, Max was recently-appointed as 'Alpha Regent' amongst the leaders, so like the initiates, he also had something to prove. But when the budding leader saw the runt of an initiate, he swiftly assumed that Eric wouldn't last the eight months and would've been disqualified. And if, by a miracle, he did make it into Dauntless, this kid would've been dead before his first year was up.

Turned out, Max was made to look like a fool, eight months later. Eric managed to get through his tough initiation. Through his tenacity and intelligence, the skinny teen was able to get through and pass. And, he managed to make it into Dauntless with the 'second-place' spot. He had gone on to prove the leader, the trainers and everyone else wrong by becoming a valuable member of Dauntless culture. He was an efficient leader, who made sure that more than ninety-percent of every initiating class was well-equipped and knowledgeable in their warrior culture.

This was the norm for the young transfer from Erudite, up until his sixth year as leader. The year of when Eric's rise came to a crashing halt, thanks to his drug addiction. Before then, Max believed that it was possible for Eric to wear the title of 'Alpha Regent' for Dauntless, in the future. But then Wept came into the picture and fucked everything over for the young man, to the point where he almost lost his life. His faith in Eric's potential dramatically changed.

Even now, six years after everything, Max's faith in Eric hadn't recovered. Eric returned to his role as leader, but it wasn't the same. It didn't feel the same for the old leader. Sure, he was proud of the young man for making good use of his second chance. But, he didn't feel the same way for Eric now than when he was younger. However, he won't allow this man to fall from grace again, if he could help it.

"I want to see Nass and my son," Eric suddenly announced.

Max cleared the fog that was his reverie from his mind and he focused on the prisoner's back. He shook his head. "Can't do that," he pointed out.

Eric scoffed with disgust. His hands dropped from his head and he whipped around to face his boss. "Max…" He paused. An expression of pained and frustration crossed his face. "I just want to see my family," he explained. "I want to see my wife and my kids. I just want to lay my head in my own bed. I—

"Eric, you'll be able to see them, soon—

" _ **OHHH GOD!**_ " the younger man ferociously growled between his teeth. He threw his hands in the air, as well. His frustration was bubbling and boiling to the surface. He turned away from Max for a short moment before he returned to his gazing. "I… I-Does he-I-I— ** _UGH_**!" He turned his back to Max, once more. His eyes did a brief sweep of the cell. He turned around again. This time, he took a few steps towards the bars. "This fucking guy—this police chief—Can I just _apologize_ to him and see if that'll work?!"

Max gave Eric a glance and then closed his eyes as a sympathetic sigh left him.

Knowing his answer, courtesy of this simple gesture, Eric unleashed another groan of frustration. His right paw slapped at the air as well. "Max…" he said softly, seconds later.

"Eric…" sighed Max.

"… All I want to do… is be there for my kids. They don't know that _I am in here_! On that day, I just left them in the apartmment and I didn't return! I—They must've been so fucking scared, not knowing where-in the-fuck did I disappeared off to, Max!" the frustrated father expressed.

"Eric…" he sighed, again. His right hand scratched at the back of his head and neck. He heavily exhaled. "…The police chief decided not to press charges against you… Since yesterday afternoon," he confessed.

" _What_ … What do you mean?" the young leader said in disbelief. His feet took a few steps towards the bars.

Max released a shaky breath. "I mean… He's not going to press charges against you. He's made that decision. He… Told both me and Dauntless Leader Xerxes, as soon as—

" ** _WHAT-THE-FUCK DO YOU MEAN THAT HE'S DECIDED NOT TO PRESS CHARGES SINCE YESTERDAY AFTERN_** ** _OON_**?!" Eric's voice bellowed.

The sudden outburst caused Max to flinch and pounce away from the bars. He eyed the enraged leader with caution.

 ** _"I COULD'VE BEEN OUT AND FREE SINCE YESTERDAY AFTERNOON_**!" the young, Dauntless leader screamed at the older man. Spittle escaped his mouth. A deep shade of red covered his face and neck. " ** _I_** _**COULD'VE BEEN UP, AT THE HOSPITAL, SINCE YESTERDAY, MAX! I COULD'VE TALKED TO MY OTHER KIDS AND BEEN**_ **_THERE FOR THEM! INSTEAD, I AM HERE… IN THIS GOT-DAMNED CAGE BECAUSE OF SOME BULLSHIT!"_**

"Eric, man, calm down—

Eric's ice-cold, eyes glowered Max. " ** _CALM DOWN?! CALM DOWN, MAX?! CALM…I-YOU-_** _ **YOU-YOU-CAH—FFFFFF-UCK**_!" He turned away from the bars. His feet took him to the other side of the cell. He walked over to the wall that held up the window. His hands and fingers reached for the thin metal bars that covered the window panes. His head leaned forward and his forehead touched the cool, stone wall. A low, feral-sounding growl fell from him.

"Eric…" Max said with caution. He took several steps towards the bars. "You have to understand…" He made a few more steps. "…You're in here… We've decided to keep you in here with our best intentions. Xerxes, Landon, Paige and I—

Max's voice was drowned out by the sound of Eric's sardonic laughter. "So, you all sat around…" He lifted his head from off of the wall. "…and decided to fucking torture me all day by keeping me in this jail cell!" he groaned.

"We're doing this for you! Eric, we can't have you—

" _What_?!" the faction leader grunted. He turned around and faced his mentor and confidant of ten-plus years. "What did you _expect_ me to do, Max?! What did you and the other leaders expect of me?! Mmm? Did y'all think that I would go crazy and just…Fucking turn into _Charles Bronson-Steven Seagal-Clint Eastwood,_ all of a sudden, and destroy the city?! Mmmm? What did you guys expect me to do: make this city my own personal 'O.K. Corral'?! Did you really fucking think that I would endanger the lives of every citizen in this city, all because of one conniving, evil bitch?! Did…" The man paused. He gave Max an accusatory glare. "Do y'all really think that I'm some…?" His face frowned up and his disgust was made evident. "… _blood-thirsty, violent savage_ that barely has any control?!"on

The expression that marked his protégé's face caused a brick-sized amount of pressure to form in his stomach. A seed of guilt began to form. "No, Eric. We don't—

" _Don't bullshit me_ , Max," Eric warned him, while pinning the leader with an all-knowing glare. After a few seconds, he turned away and faced the window. A wave of uneasy silence filled the cell and the corridor that was in between the two.

"Eric… Just listen to me. _Hear_ me out!" Max called out to him, minutes later. When the father of four didn't respond, he continued on. "We decided to keep you in here until we find Anissa. As soon as she is in the custody of Dauntless patrol, the jail's staff members will let you go! I have my best cops looking for her ass, okay? Xerxes has his best trackers _going all over Chicago_ , looking for her! She can't hide forever! The only places that are safe for her… _From us_ … Outside of our walls and in The Badlands. Listen, man…" Max took a hold of a pair of bars. "…You've come far, man. We're keeping you in here to keep you from fucking up again, Eric. Because with Anissa? _Maaannnn_ … My gut is telling me that if you were to find her ass… You would kill her and she would probably die with a smile on her face, man. She would enjoy her death, if she knew that you would end up in The Oculus again… And, that's one reason, why you're in here. The other reason is due to your family, man. Nassy, Luke… Little Zee… The twins… Your aunt… Mathilda… _They need you_ , Eric." He observed the emotionally-wrought man and waited for a reaction.

Eric listened to every word that his mentor had to say. His logic told his heart that Max wasn't all-the-way wrong, when it came to his methods. He did believe in the older man, when he said that Eric was kept in this county jail because they wanted to keep him safe. The young leader knew that Max firmly believed that he was doing the right thing.

Eric glanced over at the bars, from his right shoulder. He spotted the obscured, humanoid figure that was on the other side. "Yeah-yeah, whatever," he groaned in a snarky tone. He peeled his body away from the wall and he trekked over to the pallet. He lain down and then draped his thick forearm over his eyes. He was done with Max. He was done with the act of viewing the man's presence. He was just done. And, he didn't care if the man didn't get the message.

Max understood the message that Eric was tossing in his way. Once he saw the younger faction leader take up residence on his jail-issued mattress, he knew that Eric didn't want to interact with him anymore. He was going to say something, but thought better of it. So, he gave Eric one final glance. Then he slowly backed away from the bars. It was followed by a slow and quiet walk down the corridor to the exit.

* * *

*~oMLo

" _Dengue woman  
Stay away from me  
Dengue woman  
Stay away from me  
You got your fever and your rash  
Over me_

 _That's why  
Everyday you bring me misery…"_

" _Mama…"_

 _The voice was loud enough to be heard over the blues music that was playing from the stereo. The soft call had come from Lucien. It was obvious that the six year-old boy had just awaken from his nap. His voice was slightly slurred._

' _Shit,' Eric silently cursed, as soon as he heard his son's voice from the backseat of the minivan. His cobalt eyes took its focus from off of the road and he glimpsed into the front passenger seat. His eyes caught the image of his right hand as it took to being scared stiff and he stared at the shapely thigh that it was clenching onto._

"… _Mama, are we there yet?"_

 _Eric also spotted the navy blue, lace that decorated the desirable place that his hand was looking forward to going._

" _Where are we?" Lucien asked, his voice sounding clearer and alert._

" _Baby…" Nasira said in a breathy tone. Eric noticed that her voice gave her away and had alerted him that she was rather enjoying herself, as well. "…we're…"_

 _He felt her soft hand grab a hold of his venturing hand and she removed him from off of her thigh. In response, the faction leader lowly kissed his teeth. The action earned him a hard glower from his wife._

 _She quickly slipped back into the role of concerned mother. She turned her head towards the passenger window and spoke to their son. "…still on the road, baby. We won't be there for another hour and a half," she reported to the boy._

" _Ohhh, man," the little boy grumbled. The sounds of his fidgeting in the backseat filled the car._

 _Eric glimpsed at Lucien's reflection from the car's rear view mirror. His young, doppelgänger sat in his seat with a pout adorning his face. 'The Kid's getting restless back there. Soon, Zee is going to wake up feeling the same way,' he quietly declared as he stared at the road ahead of him. 'Well shit… I am getting restless too. We've been on this fucking road for about hour and a half, now.'_

" _I'm sorry, baby," she said to the back of her seat, to their boy. "I'll you what…" She tilted her chin up and peered over the top of her headrest. "…if you think that you need to stand up and walk around, Daddy will pull over and we'll all stretch our legs. Okay?"_

" _Okay," chirped Lucien. Seconds managed to tick by before Lucien spoke up again. "Mama, I have a question."_

" _Ohhh-kay… What is it, Big Boy?"_

 _The boy released a short stream of chuckles before he announced his inquiry. "Mama, do the Tree-People actually live in trees?!"_

 _A snort and then a low snickering came from the driver. It earned him a light smack against his right pectoral, from his wife._

" _No, baby, they don't live in trees," she informed Lucien. She had gone on to explain, but not after giving Eric another glower for his persistent laughing. "Where they live… Every year, they have really bad floods, whenever it rains more than a few days. A long time ago, whenever the floods would end, a lot of their stuff was destroyed, because of the water. So, a few of the village people had come up with the idea of making very big storage units—_

" _What's a 'storage unit'?" the boy asked._

" _A storage unit is…You know how you put your toy trucks in your trunk at night, before you go to bed?" she explained._

" _That's a storage unit?" he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised._

" _Yes, baby, that is a storage unit" she confirmed. "This is what the village people decided to build in the village's strongest and tallest trees."_

" _So, they have big boxes like mine?"_

" _Not exactly like yours, Luke. But, they use their big boxes like you use yours. They put their most precious belongings in those boxes, when they know that a flood is coming."_

" _Oh!" the child chirped. "So, why do people think that they live in the trees, then? It would be kinda cool, if they did, though."_

" _Well, that's because some people—some people, Luke—did live in the trees. But that was a very… Long-long-long-long time ago. A really-really bad flood happened and it caused a lot of damage… And, a lot of people had ended up dying and going to Heaven. Since that happened… Some people became very afraid—_

" _Of another flood from happening?" the boy asked._

" _Yes, Luke, from another flood. So those people decided to build houses…"_

 _The sound of a gasp caused Eric to peep at their son's reflection from the rear view mirror again. He spotted the expression of enthusiasm on the kid's face. A chuckle came from his mouth._

" _There's tree houses there?!" Lucien said in a rushed whisper-like tone._

" _Well… They used to be tree houses, if you can say that they were. I'm sure that they've been torn down, by now. When I was a kid, they were already in pretty bad shape, so I can imagine how they look now," she told him._

" _Aww, man," the child groaned in disappointment._

 _Nasira decided to go on with the history lesson. "People… From where we live… Think that the… Tree-People… Live in trees, because of this reason. Plus, the folks over at the Welfare and Resources Fund like to carry tall tales, as well."_

" _The… Welfare and Resources Fund… Who's that, Mama?"_

' _Definitely, Erudite genes in him,' Eric secretly concluded._

" _Well… They are… People, who go to different factions, and even to Sector Cee, and they…"_

 _Eric glimpsed at his wife and quickly detected the energy of contemplation that was coming off of her. He assumed that she was trying to break down the function of the 'W and R' in a manner that Lucien could understand. He decided to help his wife out. He glimpsed at their son's reflection before he stared at the road. "Luke?"_

" _Yes, Pops?"_

 _A toothy smile erupted on his face while a pink-tinted, blush colored his cheeks. The 'Pops' moniker was something new, but he felt like it fit perfectly._

" _The 'Welfare and Resources Fund' is like a very special club, in which the members goes to different factions and they check out things to make sure that are running," he explained to Lucien. "Like… You know how when your mama's car becomes broken sometimes and I have to take it to the mechanic?" He glimpsed at Luke's reflection and saw the boy nodding his head. "Or, remember when you and Zee broke the window in the living room and those two guys came to the apartment and fixed it?"_

 _Lucien giggled as he nodded. "And you looked like you wanted to fight one of the men!" he pointed out._

 _Nasira broke out into a boisterous laugh, as well._

 _Eric rolled his eyes as he quickly reminisced about the moment that Lucien brought up. He recalled moments in which he wanted to fight the mentioned repairman, because he kept flirting with Nasira rather than commit to his task._

" _Well… That's what the Welfare and Resources Fund do: they go to the factions, and to Sector Cee, and they check to see if everything is running properly. They also ask people if there is any problems that they would like to tell them about. After they learn all of this stuff, they tell us leaders about them at a special meeting that happens every month. With the information, us, leaders figure out which problems to fix right away and which ones can wait. We also learn if there are any more babies born or if…" A memory popped up in his head and it caused his humor to become aroused. He began to laugh._

" _What's so funny, baby?" Nasira asked him, a few seconds into his laughter._

 _He glimpsed at his wife. "Nothing… I was… Thinking about last month's leadership meeting…" More chuckles left his mouth. He had to forcibly cough in order to speak. "Jack Kang from Candor and Alan Turkis, from Erudite, had managed to get into it, last month. And it was over about cows that were in Sector Cee," he clarified._

" _Waah…" Nasira breathed while her face contained a look of amusement._

" _What?!" Lucien giggled._

 _His wife's and son's reactions caused the laughter to bubble up to the surface again._

" _Why were… Two… grown-ass men fighting over about some cows?" Nasira asked, sounding a combination of being slightly miffed and fully interested in this story._

 _Eric released another stream of laughter before he could explain. "The… Uh, the representative from the 'W and R' had informed us that a few farmers in Sector Cee had cows, who had given birth to calves. Nine, in total. So, Alan Turkis had interrupted the guy, because Alan is an asshole—_

" _Eric," Nasira lowly groaned, a warning and a reminder for him to limit his cursing, because of Lucien's presence._

" _Sorry," he announced with a slight laugh to his tone. He looked into the rear view mirror and repeated his apology, to Lucien._

" _None taken," chirped Lucien, from the backseat. "Besides, he's an asshole—_

" _Lucien!" Nasira yelped while her husband's cackling filled up the car. She glanced into the back of the vehicle and stared at her son. "Lucien, that's not nice," she warned him._

" _Sorry, Mama," the child said to her._

 _As she returned to her seat, she slapped her husband's right bicep. "As you were saying with your story," she said to Eric, with a soft jovial lilt to her voice._

 _Eric released a few laughs, before he resumed. "So… Alan interrupted the… 'W and R Fund' guy and told him that he wanted three of the newborn calves—_

" _Why does he want calves? What-the-heck was he planning on doing with them? In fact… Where was he planning on putting those cows?! The last time I've been over there, Erudite doesn't have any farm land," muttered Nasira._

 _Eric shrugged. "Who knows? With Alan, there's no point in trying to figure that freak out. But if I had to guess… He probably wanted them because they provided milk…"_

" _Ohhhhh…" she mewled, understanding her husband's point._

"… _Milk and fish, sweetheart. Milk and fish," he muttered as he stared out of the windshield._

" _Huh?!" the little boy grunted._

" _Milk… And fish, Luke, are two things that are hard to come by, kid," Eric clarified._

" _Huh? I don't get it," the kid said to his father. "I have milk every day!"_

" _Powdered milk, baby," Nasira told him. "You drink powdered milk. Milk, from a long time ago, had come from cows. A long time ago, before the Great War even happened… People used to get their milk from the cows. There were even big factories that used to make sure that people used to get it. Then, after the Great War—_

" _The night where fire… Covered the sky…"Lucien blurted out._

 _A mask of surprise covered Eric's face. Hearing the words had brought back memories from childhood. Memories of being in an Erudite classroom and having to stand in a group with his classmates while they recite the well-known words. '…Where-in the-hell…?' he muttered to himself, seconds later. He glanced over at his wife, who was looking at him with a similar expression on her face._

"… _The day held…"_

'… _did he learned this from?!'_

"… _the songs of…" Lucien paused. Both parents peered at their son and found him wearing a look of contemplation. It lasted a few seconds because it was replaced with a mask of enlightenment. He proceeded to recite the famous poem. "The songs of our wailing mothers… Crying to the Gods that have abandoned us and to the angels!"_

" _Very good, Luke! Very good, honey!" Nasira cheered as she clapped her hands._

" _Very good, Kid!" Eric said to his son's reflection. "How did you learn that? Even I didn't learn that poem until I was in the fourth grade!"_

" _Gee-Gee taught me," confessed the boy, feeling proud. "She said that I was smart enough to know it."_

" _You are smart enough to know it, Luke," he told his son. He watched a deep burgundy blush take over the child's face as his shoulders hunched and a broad smile was carried on his face. There was a fluttering sensation sitting in his chest. His face grew warm and a steady, mild buzzing. Slightly stinging eyes, he glanced at the road, and then, into the rear view mirror. "So, Miss Thorton is teaching you guys about the Great War, in your class?" he asked the boy._

" _Mmm-hmm," Lucien hummed as he nodded his head. "Pops? I have a question."_

" _Is it about the Great War?"_

" _I don't kno—Well, I think so," the kid told him._

" _What's the question, kiddo?"_

" _Why are we…Here, and the Tree-People are there?"_

" _Mmmm," Eric hummed. He stared at the road._

' _He's questioning… Not good. Not good, at all. Talk to Four. I gotta talk to him, A-Fucking-SAP.'_

" _Well…" He looked at Lucien's reflection. "A… Long time ago, after the Great War had ended…"_

' _And civilizations were blown to smithereens by nukes.'_

" _...and before our wall was built… People were living in our city—_

" _Chicago!" Lucien interjected._

 _Eric nodded his head. "Yes, Chicago… People were living in our city. But some people were very unhappy with the way that we were living…"_

' _Cos, folks were hoarding food and better shelter while leaving people to starve and die from exposure.'_

"… _So, they decided to tell our leaders. Our leaders didn't like what they heard—_

" _What did the 'mad people' say?" the child queried._

" _They didn't like how our leaders were hiding food from other people and how they were able to live in better houses than other people. So, they told the leaders this stuff. Then, our leaders told them that they had to leave Chicago, if they didn't like the way things were. So… Some of the 'mad people' wanted to leave the city and find a better place to live and others wanted to fight…"_

 _A gasp and a look of shock took over Lucien's face._

 _Once Eric saw the expression, he smiled. "…the leaders and the people, who liked the rules. There was a big disagreement between the 'mad people'."_

" _What happened?"_

" _The people, who wanted to leave, ended up leaving the city. They traveled hundreds of miles west of the city and formed the place that we're going to, Sector C-633, which we call 'Sector Cee,'" he notified their son._

 _An expression of enlightenment crossed the kid's face. "Ohhh…But, what happened to the other people? The ones, who wanted to fight?"_

" _Well, they tried to start up a fight," he reported to the child._

" _And what happened, Pops?"_

 _Eric's lips formed a thin line and his jaw clenched. 'How can I tell him this shit without giving him nightmares?' His blue eyes focused on the rear view mirror. "They… They-they—_

" _They lost, baby," Nasira informed the little boy._

" _Oh, were they put in a jail?" the smaller Eric inquired._

' _Sort of…' Eric stated in his head._

 _His wife peered over the edge of the chair, so she could look at their son. "Yes, sweet boy, they were put…"_

'… _if you consider being forced underground and left there, so they can become…'_

"… _in jail," Nasira finished explaining._

'… _cannibals.'_

" _Are they still in jail?" Lucien asked._

" _No, baby, it happened a looooonnngggg time ago, so they have died," Nasira clarified._

' _But, they have family that's still alive and kicking in The Badlands. Just hunting and eat—_

"— _eaten! I'm tellin' ya, Terry! That boy had gone to the lake and he was made into gator chum!" the man named Remy, another one of Nasira's "cousins", claimed. The man sat, a few yards away, from where Eric was being tattooed. But his booming voice carried over to where the faction leader was laying. "There's a gator swimmin' and livin' in those waters and it got big from all of that radiation, from those nukes, from the Great—_

" _What a load of shit, Remy!" Terry declared, who sat across from Remy. "There's no two-hundred-foot alligator livin' in that lake!" Terry, like Remy, was a "cousin" of his wife's._

 _The communal area was filled with laughter from men, who were lucky to overhear the lively conversation between the two men._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

 _The stabbing needle managed to hit another nerve-filled, sensitive spot. This time, it was a spot located directly on the bone of his collarbone, several inches below his Adam's apple. A low, feral groan was emitted from his throat as he endured waves of sharp pain. His eyes snapped shut and a grimace graced his face. The pain seemed to bite at his flesh and then sank into his bones._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

 _Eric was warned about the pain. In fact, he warned several times, over the course of four months, before he made this trip to Sector-C633. Most of his warnings had come from Nasira's brothers, Samuel and Trigger. Of course, being his wise-cracking in-laws, they down-played the pain, once describing it as "getting a scratch from a kitten"._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

' _Getting scratch from a kitten… Yeah, right… Yeah, right.'_

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

 _The 'Maker's Mark', or the 'Parent's Tattoo', wasn't going to be his first tattoo. Yet, the process was going to be memorable than the majority of his other markings. This process was an old art-form. Instead of sitting in some elaborate chair and having some machine etch the designs into his flesh, he was being subjected to just sharp needles and black ink. No stencil. No design that was picked from a catalog. No numbing lubrication was added to his skin. He wasn't relaxing in an air-conditioned, store-front business that smelt of sanitizers and cleaning fluid. Eric was in the middle of a hillside clearing, in Sector-C633, under a makeshift big-top tent. He was surrounded by a small gathering of Nasira's male relatives, all of which were fathers and sons. It was a part of the Fir Clan custom._

 _Eric wasn't in Sector Cee for more than two days, when he was summoned by the men in Nasira's family to join them on a two-day, hunting excursion. He was instructed to bring his eldest son, Lucien and the vital supplies that would help them survive in the woods. Nasira didn't assume anything was amiss and she didn't speak of any suspicions, which had perfectly fit into Eric's plans._

 _According to the clans of Sector C-633, once a person became a parent, they was eligible for the tattoo. With the help of Davina, the husband and father was granted the permission to bear the Maker's Mark, a tattoo that was going to complement Nasira's "Mommy Tattoos". Unlike his wife's tattoo that covered the lower stomach and hips, the 'Father's Tattoo' had span from shoulder-to-shoulder, across the chest and it covered both collarbones. Besides being a sign of parenthood, the chest tattoo was going to be a symbol that he was a part of the Grant family, as well as, a member of the Fir clan._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

" _How's that barbecue coming along, B.D.?!" Terry shouted into the air._

 _Eric's eyes snapped open, allowing a pair of tears to become free, so he could peep Terry. He noticed that the man was staring over his shoulder to yell at a man that had to be sixty feet away from them._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

 _The pain was tolerable for him because it was expected. But, the noise… The 'thit-thit-thit' noise that came from the two sticks striking each other… It was driving Eric's irritation level up into astronomical proportions. His logic side of him told him that the current environment was making the faction leader's tolerance level weaker. He did consider the idea that the noise wouldn't have been bad, if this process was taking place in a more comfortable place like an air-conditioned, tattoo parlor, for instance. Maybe if he was in a tattoo parlor in Dauntless, then he wouldn't feel the urge to break those sticks and try to shove them down his tattooist's throat. At the moment, it was very humid and hot, which was typical for the month of July. There was the overbearing and pungent odor of burning cedar and coal from the multiple barbecue grills. The lingering scent of the blood that came from the hunted fowl and hogs, hung in the air. Then, there were the boisterous and loud voices from Terry's and Remy's banter._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

' _The only way that I am willing to endure this shit again is if one of the boys want to get one of these, when they become dads,' he surmised._

' _Lucien,' his instinct called out, seconds later._

 _He totally forgotten about his son's existence, so far. The last time he had seen his son was this morning. He was barely awake, when the kid ran out of the tent in excitement because he was invited to a hunt._

 _He opened his eyes again and he stared straight ahead, into the face of his tattooist. He was another one of Nasira's 'cousins', an elder named James._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

" _Hey…" Eric whispered, "…hey, man..."_

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

"… _have you seen my little boy? I haven't seen him all day," Eric reported._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit." The repetitive noise came to a stop. Eric also felt a reprieve from the constant stabbing at his flesh._

" _He's under the table, man," James conveyed with a subtle chin nod. "He's asleep, along with Roe's little boy. Don't worry, man, we got them. They're family, just like you. Now, chill out, Papa. I'm almost finished."_

 _Hearing the older man smoothly and unflinchingly tell him that he was a part of their family caused a knot of pressure to build up inside of his chest. It pulsated right alongside with his heart. He was gifted a chill along the surface of his sweating flesh. He took in a hefty inhale through his nostrils and then a harsh exhale from his parted lips._

" _You ready, man?" James asked, after his moment._

 _Eric nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."_

 _A few seconds later, the familiar symphony of 'thit-thit' began. Strangely, this time… It didn't bother him. The tattooing process didn't feel like many, tiny knives were stabbing at his skin._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit…"_

' _Rogue.'_

 _He recalled a memory, one which was created during this hunting trip. A smile slowly crept along his lips as his humor flared up. "So… How's Rogue doing?" he asked James._

"… _thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit—_

 _The tattoo artist stopped working. A smile appeared on his full lips. "He's almost finished, like you. At least, he's stopped crying."_

" _Thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-thit-th—_

" _I love you…"_

 _Every time he heard her say it, his stomach was subjected to waves and waves of fluttering. It was a wonderful feeling, if he were to admit it to himself._

"… _I love you, Mr. Coulter," Nasira's full lips softly declared to his lips. "I love you…" Her soft, plump lips planted a gentle kiss to his pink ones. Before he could grab a hold of her hips and become a fully willing participant, she moved on. She escaped his clutches and slid away from him. "…I love you…" She planted another one of her kisses on the center of his collarbone, on his Maker's Mark. "…I love you… I love you… I love you…" With every declaration of love, she punctuated each one with a kiss along the protruding bones. "I love…"_

 _This time, Eric felt one of her hands make a shy but curious touch to his prick's shaft. A pleasurable fissure ran along the length, matching her hand's pace. A soft gasp escaped him._

"… _I love you… I love you…"_

 _His chest became another participant of her lips' affections. She placed kisses and licks on various places on him. Her frisky hand was now slowing pumping his dick, causing a stream of gentle moans to leave him. "…That's it. That's it…" he muttered._

 _Soft, slightly wet lips made a trip down his torso. They also continued to tell him just how much she loved him. "…love you… La—_

" _You're… You're not even hard," he could've sworn that he heard Anissa declare._

 _A stream of incoherent sounds spilled from his lips, words that were mangled somehow during the travel that happened between his brain and mouth. Currently, he felt like he was wading through a sea of goodness. Bright and vibrant flashes of colors exploded beneath his eyelids. His body was bathed in warmth and in waves of vibrations that managed to seep into his bones. It felt so fucking wonderful._

" _You're not even fucking… It's the Wept. It's that new shit that you're taking," he heard Anissa's sweet voice declare to him._

' _I'm… I-I-I… Fine,' he stated, unaware that he has only spoken the declaration inside of his mind. 'See? I'm fine, baby… FFFFF-ine…' Eric's battered hand slithered down his sweat-coated, semi-nude body to reach his sex. His scab-decorated digits provided clumsy and lifeless pumps to his flaccid meat. 'See, baby? Ssshhh…' He undergone a wave of numbness that quieted his thoughts. His fingers stilled, allowing his prick to slip from his clutches._

"— _ric!"_

 _Blunt pain exploded in his right thigh, which caused the former faction leader to be pulled from his drug-induced stupor. His head lifted off the mattress and his swollen eyes grew into thin slits. Bleary vision focused on the stunning woman, who was kneeling a few feet away. "Whaaaaaa…aat?!" his lips slurred. His head felt like there was a weight inside of his skull. His head collapsed back on the plush mattress. "Whaaaa… do… Whaa-aat do you want from me, Nassy? You… Can't take him away…" A few mangled words fell clumsily from his mouth before he slipped back into his stupor. His sea took a hold of him again._

 _He was yanked out again, when he felt the mattress tremble as weight shifted along the surface. Eric rose his head again and his drug-afflicted eyes tried to focus on Anissa. Two obscured, Anissas stood at the foot of the mattress, now. 'No… That's wrong,' he slurred in his head. Battered fingers reached to his eyes and rubbed at the sensitive skin. Slices of pain ripped into his eyelids. He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ngh! Shit!" he grunted. His left hand helped his upper body lift into an upright position. Meanwhile, his right hand tried to numb the pain. Then, both heels from his hands pressed into the puffy flesh, in order to stop the ocular discomfort._

"… _gotta go. This isn't some half-way house for ousted, faction leaders..." muttered Anissa._

 _The unexpected burst of pain caused a bit of the drug's affects to diminish. The numbing waves that he took delight in, were now receding. The bit of sobriety that he was feeling were also causing his senses to return to him._

 _A mirthless, low chuckle floated into Anissa's bedroom. "If Madeline was still around and saw this…" There was another laugh that didn't contain humor. "Shouldn't have opened my door tonight. Should've just… Got-damn… Like a fucking dog…Comes back a mess…"_

 _Including, his sense of hearing._

"… _Such a disappointment. Shouldn't gave him that batch. Stupid-stupid me…I shouldn't have… He has no fucking worth for me...What can I do with a broken...He's not a leader anymore. What the fuck can I…? Such a fucking disappoint—_

"— _ **DISAPPOINTMENT! NONE OF YOUSE ARE WORTH SHIT! NONE OF YA! NONE OF YA!"**_

 _Her reddened eyes search the disheveled bedroom, looking for anything to throw at them. The four walls were covered with the ragged noise of her overstressed breathing. Her eyes zeroed in on the paperback novel that was littering the base of the mattress. There was a snatch._

" _ **YOUSE…"**_

 _Her left hand threw the item into his direction. Luckily, Francis and he was quick enough to slide out of it path. Frightened, youthful eyes stared up at his older brother. "You okay, Francis?"_

 _Francis, with a scrunched-up face, nodded feverishly. "Y-Y-Yeah. Yes," he whined. Squinty, watery eyes focused on the chaotic scene that was unfolding in front of them._

"… _ **RUIN ME! I COULD'VE BEEN GRRR-GREAT! I…"**_

 _Deborah's tirade abruptly ends as the tears and low, sloppy sobs come from her mouth._

" _What do we… do, Eric?" Francis asked as he eyed their mother with concern._

 _The ten-year-old glared at the crying and frantic woman. "Just let her sleep it off," he answered._

" _W-What?"_

" _What?" his lips absent-mindedly spewed as his mind was still stuck in reverie. His eyes managed to take in the spectacle of his lover leaping off of the bed and then spinning around to face him. "W-Whaa-What?"_

" _Err—_

" _What…? What did you say to me?" he slurred._

" _Eric, what—_

" _Say it again," he practically whispered. Blue, watery eyes blinked and then focused on her. "S-SS-Say it again," he stated as tears slithered down his ashen face._

" _Err-Err-ric… I—_

" _ **SAY IT AGAIN!"**_ _the man, who was still stuck in his own thoughts, thundered to her. His skin grew hot while his stomach quivered._

 _The unexpected, roar-of-a demand caused the Dauntless woman to jolt and make a few backward steps away from the former faction leader. Wide eyes stared at the enraged man that was occupying her bedroom and her home. A man that could've snapped her neck at any second._

" _Say it again!" he demanded with a hoarse voice. "Tell me that I am a goddamned disappointment to you! Say it again!"_

 _Her lips parted and a shaking breath escaped. "You're a got-damned disappointment, Eric," Anissa called out, unaware that he was still under the effects of his intoxication. She made a tough swallow. "Okay?!" she squeaked. In a firmer tone of voice, she mustered the courage to resume speaking. "You're a… Fuck-king disappointment… There! I said it! You're happy, now? I think that you're a disappointment!"_

'— _a disappointment!' The voice… It wasn't Deborah's. But, it was familiar to him._

" _Got-damn it, Eric!" she cursed. Her fingers performed a comb-through with her waist-length hair. "Got-damn it… I should've just… Cut you off, when you were in the hospital. I had the fucking opportunity!" Exasperated, she tossed her hands in the air. "You're… use— I have no use for you." She took a brave step forward, to the edge of the mattress. "I only deal with the best! You're no longer worthy of my time!"_

'… _only deal with the best! You're no longer worthy of my time!'_

 _Her words replayed in his mind. It cut through that fog that muddled with his mind, which was fueled by the Wept. It brought his awareness back to life. His swollen, red eyes finally recognized the woman that was standing in front of him. His brain replayed her statement for him. Recognition of the message that was behind her cruel words finally struck him._

"… _You… You-You'd had everything! It was served to you on a silver-fucking-platter and you had to ruin it! I kept telling you: 'Just one time, Eric! Eric, just use the Wept only when we're partying. Eric, you gotta get control of yourself, man. That Wept can become addictive! Eric, stop and think about it. You don't need it, today!' But, you wouldn't listen! I—_

" _I…" he whimpered. "…I can quit-quit it, Anissa. I-I—_

" _Eric…" Anissa sighed, "just… Don't. Don't lie to me. You can't—_

" _Yes! I-I-I… C-Can quit it! I can quit taking the Wept! It—there are these classes that takes place across from The Mind. I-I-I can take-take it…" Those blue eyes viewed various items in the room as he tried to find the right words to say, in order to convince her to stay with him. "…I can get clean, Anissa. I-I-I can get-get clean. I-I…"_

 _His vision landed on a gold wrist watch that rested on her nightstand. Before he could venture onto another item that was lying about, he realized that something._

"… _I-I-I…"_

 _It was a man's watch. A watch that didn't belong to him._

"… _I—Watch," he murmured. His head snapped forward and he stared at her. "Who's…watch…Is that?" he queried._

 _Golden-brown eyes flitted in their sockets and they spotted the object in question. He watched her as she stared at the piece of valuable jewelry. He expected for Anissa to gift him with a look of shock. To be gifted with the opportunity to see her gorgeous face contort: her eyes wide, the color to drain from her naturally tanned-looking skin and her lips to become slightly open. He expected to hear her stammer out an excuse, a lie. Then, there was going to be an apology and a begging of forgiveness._

 _Instead…_

 _There was a slow and relaxed, intake of air from the Dauntless beauty. Then she turned to face Eric, who still sat on her mattress, half-naked. There wasn't an expression of surprise on her face. She gifted him with a look of dispassion. "It's a man's watch, Eric. I am sure that you know what it is," she unconcernedly pointed out to him._

" _Ah—_

" _Eric… Just. Go," she simply stated._

 _The manner in which she was speaking to him as well as her behavior towards him, left him with a blank face. The lack of remorse and the choice of words were shocking to his soul. But, they were also yanking his anger to come to the surface. Eyes, which were already carrying restricted sight because of the significant swelling, were glaring at her. "Who-Who-Who is-is he?" he stuttered, a sign that her behavior was cutting deeply into him. "Who-who is…" He paused. A few ragged breaths were unleashed from his nose. "Who is he?" he groaned._

" _Doesn't matter, Eric," she coolly informed the former leader and soon-to-be ex-lover. "He is of no—_

" _Who is he?!" he grunted, making his full-bloomed, anger evident._

 _Anissa, unflinching and unafraid, gave him a smile. "That's none of your concern…" Her lips pursed up a bit before performing a sweet smile. "… In the same manner that that baby isn't min—_

 _The beautiful, Dauntless member didn't get far with her statement. Eric soon had her tiny form violently pressed into a wall. He used his strength to have her semi-naked form pinned into the drywall. Once her sense of shock faded and she retained her wherewithal, her hands began to try to pummel the raging hulk that was before her._

" _Get off of me!" she screamed at him._

" _I'll fuckin' kill you and him, if I ever see you with him!" he groaned into her grimacing face._

 _Her fingers, palms and nails continued to slap and claw at her attacker._

 _Eric snubbed her fighting efforts. Yet, his thick, right forearm was pressed into her neck in order to further restrain her. His left hand managed to hunt down her ravaging hands and hold them into a vice-like grip._

"— _ou fucker! Let… Let me go! You… Got-damned, junkie! Err— Let me go!" she screamed._

" _I will fucking kill you! I'll kill you and him!" he threatened. "I'll fucking kill him while you fuckin' watch!"_

 _Despite the draining color and the watery eyes, a cocky smile slipped onto her face. "It's… Not like it would be the first time. It's not like you've killed for me before, Eric."_

 _Unfiltered, scenes that came from a moment in his history, began to work their way to the forefront of his mind. He recalled a view of an overcast, gray sky that was viewed from an Erudite skyscraper's roof. The phantom sound of a barely-formulated scream and the sensation of having another's flesh in his hands and then having it disappear, within the following second. There were the splices of recollection about the heavy scent of petrichor that clung to the polluted, Chicago air, as well as, the mildew odor that circulated in the stairwells of the building. The remembrance of a panic-filled, beating heart and the thick nausea that covered his stomach's insides. The recovery of the moments in which he tasted vomit in his mouth and the smell of piss that lingered in the alleyway, which horribly blended with that sweet jasmine scent._

 _Her taunting voice pulled the disgraced man from out of his head. "Will you kill again? For me, Eric?"_

 _A rage-filled groan escaped his throat. His forearm pressed harder into her neck. His action didn't stop the taunting laughter from coming out of her mouth. The strength in his battered, rough hands greatened around her dainty wrists. He wanted to fucking break those fine instruments like they were twigs over a knee. "You fuckin'… Connivin'—_

 _A coquettish giggle fell from her smiling mouth. That sickening, sweet fragrance of hers had fallen onto his skin. Jasmine. It was a smell that he was in love, only a few minutes ago. Now, he cannot stand the scent of it. It kept fucking with his awareness._

 _Her brown eyes stared up at him. She, now, didn't have one trace of fear on her face. "You're going to kill me, Eric?" she swooned. "How…" Her voice was huskier than its usual lilt. "…apropos."_

" _Ah…Knee… Sah…"_

 _She… sighed._

 _In fact, she just sighed the name._

 _Eric knew that she was about to say something—an observation, because it was always an observation with Miss Carole—that was going to rock his world from off of its axis._

 _It wouldn't be Miss Carole's style, if she couldn't offer a perspective that would lead him to a life-changing discovery._

"… _Eric? Can I, ah, say something to you? It's more like an observation…"_

 _Eric felt a smirk grow on his lips. He hummed under his breath._

"… _if that's okay with you," the psychiatrist said to him._

' _God, I wonder where this will lead me?' he silently questioned._

 _He made a final glimpse to the view that was on the other side of the office's window. He turned away from the window and searched for the familiar, unwavering black irises that belonged to his psychiatrist. He found the woman sitting in her favorite spot: at a small round table, which was in the corner that was closest to her majestic-looking desk. Then he spotted the contents that were on the table: two mugs filled with orange pekoe tea and two saucers that held lemon-flavored cookies._

" _You can have the cookies, Eric," Miss Carole told him._

 _Eric eyed the woman. "I don't want the cookies, Carole. You know that."_

" _Ohhh-oh, Eric!" she lightly groaned. Her hand swatted the air that was in front of her, making her grayish dreadlocks slightly sway. "There's nothing in the cookies. No calming serum. No drugs. Nothing!" she informed and lightly scolded him, simultaneously. Her left index finger performed a flimsy nod to the saucers. "They're regular cookies that I bought from the Farmer's Market, yesterday. You can have one."_

 _The faction leader's eyes narrowed as they filled up with meager distrust. "I'll consider your offer, later." He took a few steps into the direction that led to the chaise lounge chair that was in front of the desk. "You said that you had an observation about Anissa," he reminded her._

" _Ah yes… Yes-yes-yes-yes," the woman muttered._

 _Eric took a seat on the decorative chair. As he lowered his upper body down, so he could recline, he gave the stately-looking, black woman a glance._

" _Eric…How long has it been since you've spoken to Anissa?_

 _He took in an audible inhale and on the exhale, he stated, "It will be… a year… In August. Why? Why do you want to know?"_

 _Miss Carole didn't respond immediately. Instead, her obsidian orbs gifted the young man with a gaze that he swore his spirit could feel. "Soooo… You've have thought of her since you've ended your relationship?"_

 _His right eyebrow flicked northwards. "In what way?"_

" _In any way! I mean…Do you miss her? Do you have moments where you think about her? Do you regret breaking up with her? Have any memories pop up, unexpectedly, because you did something that reminds you of her?"_

" _As of recently? No. The weeks that followed the breakup? Yeah. Eventually, I stopped missing her…" This line of questioning brought forth memories of the young, Dauntless doctor. He wasn't 'knee deep' into his reminiscing, when he realized that she didn't bring forth the deluge of pleasant sensations anymore. "…And then, there's the fact that the kids…" Mental pictures of both Lucien and Zola erased phantom Anissa's presence from his mind, just as quickly as they were brought up. "…have been taking up my time."_

 _It was a fact; since Nasira had gone back to work and Sophie was now a cadet for the Dauntless Patrol Department, Eric, by default, had become the children's primary caretaker. On most days, he was too occupied taking care of the babies that he couldn't afford to have a private time to reflect about anything._

 _He looked at his therapist with a shrewd eye. "Why are you interested in Anissa, all of a sudden? I've mentioned her… Maybe… Three or four times since we've started talking. And I've haven't brought her up in months."_

" _Mmmm…I was… Just… Wondering," Miss Carole declared. Her fingers picked up her mug. "Since you've broken up with her, have you've noticed anything that's… Different about her? You know…Since you're no longer… Blinded by love," the psychiatrist told him._

 _There was a mask of befuddlement carried by his face. "Things, like what?"_

 _There was a multi-second stream of silence from the woman. "Eric… I was hoping that you've noticed it, by now…"_

'' _Notice,' what exactly?'_

"… _The way that you've talked about Anissa… When you used to just talk about her… It… Rang… Some of my bells. That's for sure," the psychiatrist confessed._

 _A pressure formed in the pit of his stomach. Apprehension clouded his spirit while his throat felt constriction and a case of light-headedness. "L-L-L-Like… What?" he grumbled._

" _Like…" Her fingernails danced a melody against the ceramic of the mug. "…her lack of emotional response, when it comes to you. Like, for instance… When you were recover—_

" _Ah-knee…Sah-ah… Whaa-What d-d-does it say?" he stammered. A series of ragged breaths penetrated the atmosphere. "Ah-knee-sahhh," his throat croaked. "Whaa-aat d-d-does it say?"_

 _Eric had a strong hunch about the message that was in the letter. The government-issued letter was delivered five hours ago, by a pair of Dauntless soldiers that were dressed in their formal gear. The two men didn't bother to stick around for more than six minutes, in order to explain the letter's contents to him. He didn't trust any of the infirmary's staff to read the letter and then explain the contents. He wanted someone trust-worthy._

" _Ah-knee—_

" _Ssshhhhh…" Anissa politely hissed at him as she peered at the letter. "…Eric. I am still reading it."_

 _Trembling lips formed a thin line of pink flesh. A wavering inhale was created by his flaring nostrils. His eyes grew a fresh batch of hot tears as his skull endured another round of sharp pains. They were migraines that were brought forth from his withdrawal of the Wept. It has been ongoing since he had woken up from the medically-induced coma. The treating nurses and the physicians refused to give the disgraced leader anything stronger than two-hundred milligrams of ibuprofen. Anissa couldn't even prescribe him a stronger pain-killer._

" _It says…" She paused. Her full bottom lip was injected into her mouth, where it was captive for a few seconds. He, then, received the news that he was looking for. "You have been demoted. You're no longer a leader, here in Dauntless…"_

 _At the mention of his judgment, his stomach violently churned. There was a moan that was filled with pain. The type of pain that definitely didn't come from his migraine._

"… _It says here that you're on probation, for the next five years. That's if, and only if, you are able to fulfill every requirement that is there for you. Um… Also, you have to relinquish all properties that comes along with being a leader at Dauntless. Meaning, you have to give up your truck, your apartment, all of your access keys to The Mind… Looks like you're able to keep health insurance and pension. Now… In regards to 'the requirements' that make up your probation, you… Have to go to therapy… There's rehab… Both in-patient and the out-patient treatments. The 'In-Patient' program usually lasts sixty-to-ninety days…." She lowered the letter, so she could give him a glare._

 _Eric was unaware of Anissa's glower. Internally, he was trying to deal with the consequences. 'Sixty-to-ninety days…Sixty-to-nine…How am I going to do that?'_

" _Then once you're done with that, you will be going to the 'Out-Patient' sessions, which are like doctor visits…You will have to be subjected to drug testing, which is 'at will', meaning that it is random. After the five years are up and if you are welcome back as a leader, then you'll have to go through the leadership training again… With whichever class of new initiates that are there…" Then there was a mumbled "…How embarrassing…"_

" _S-S-SSS-SSS-So… I'm… Not factionless?" His dry, pale lips tried to form a smile. A show of nonchalance from him, for Anissa's sake. He was unaware that he conveyed himself as a man that was about to lose it all._

 _Anissa settled his worried mind as she lowered the letter to her lap. "No… You're still a full-fledged member of Dauntless, Eric," she further explained._

 _Eric gingerly rolled onto his back. The action caused a new round of skull aches to be unleashed. Through a grimace and gritted teeth, he stammered, "I-I-I-I-I c-ca-can get-get it b-ba-back… I-I can get it back."_

 _He turned his head, so he could gaze at his girlfriend. The bright lights, from both the ceiling lights and the sunlight's rays, were stabbing at his eyes. He quickly closed them. But not before he caught the view of Anissa was staring at her cell phone's screen._

" _Ah-knee-sah?" he slowly pronounced. A pair of brown eyes focused on him. "D-D-Do you-you-you think-think that I c-c-ca-an mim-make it?"_

 _She observed him. There were four seconds of silence, which felt like thirty minutes for him. Then, she spoke up. "Sure," her finely-polished lips announced, "why not?"_

 _Eric slowly shook his head, feeling himself go into a state of disbelief. "What are you trying to say, Miss Carole?"_

" _Well…" Her lips momentarily pursed up. "Well, Eric, what I am trying to say—and failing, at this point—that… I don't believe Anissa was in love with you. From what you've told me about her, I have failed to see any kind of display of love. You loved her. But, I don't believe that she felt the same way about you."_

" _Are you…? You don't think that she was ever in love with me?" he said softly._

 _The therapist took a deep breath. A simpering smile approached her lips. "To put it bluntly… You were in love with a woman that didn't share the same feelings for—_

" **KHAH-LAANNGGG!"**

A gentle shaking ripped through Eric's body as his mind tries to catch up with the rest of his body. His eyes, unaware, stared out of the cell's sole window and peered at the sky, which was now a powdered blue. Daylight. It was 'Day two' for him. He has been rotting away in this jail cell since yesterday morning. He has been captive in this cell for another day. He has been recycling old memories, in order to keep from losing it.

"Coulter!" The voice was unfamiliar. Possibly, it was another correctional officer.

He blinked and aimed his glossy gaze at the ceiling.

"Coulter!"

He listened to the sounds of footsteps as they drew closer to the cell's barred entrance.

"Coulter, you up?!"

He knew that he should've given the man a response, but he just didn't feel like interacting with another person. Especially, when that person could just get up and leave. Meanwhile, he had to forcibly wait in a jail cell. And for what? Cos, they didn't trust him. 'They,' being his colleagues, fellow leaders for the faction. Despite fulfilling every requirement that was demanded of him, they saw him as some animal. A feral, blood-thirsty animal that was trapped in human flesh and was restricted by societal standards.

"Coulter?!"

It was all bullshit, according to him.

"Coulter!"

" **KHAH-LANNNGGG!"**

The abrasive sound of a stick hitting the bar caused the imprisoned man to jerk upright and sit up on the pallet. He glanced over his left shoulder and at the cell's entrance. His eyes picked up the darkened, obscured figure that was standing on the other side of the bars. The person, who had his freedom, unlike him. 'Guard,' his intuition told him.

"Coulter, get up, man," the correctional officer demanded, in a slight polite tone. "You're getting out of here," he explained to the faction leader.

'…What?' Eric swung his legs from off of the meager bedding and sat on the edge of the thin mattress. He glared at the cop and gifted him with a look that was an amalgamation of disbelief and distrust. "Are-are—

"No-pah!" the guard declared. The officer shook his head. "I'm not fuckin' wid ya. You're free to go, Coulter." The guard looked away from Eric and stared down at his waist harness. His pudgy fingers reached to his waist holster. "We were given the word to let you go, about fifteen minutes ago."

"So… _They found her_?" he concluded.

" _Found who?_ " The guard looked away from his holster to get a glimpse of Eric. "I don't know who you're talkin' 'bout, Mister. I'm just here because I was giving the orders to release you and take you down to 'Property' because you're free to go," the guard clarified. Then, the older man looked away and his fingers reached for the ring of keys that hung from off of his pants.

Even though the guard just told him that he was free to go, he still believe in the good news. He was waiting for the correction officer to tell him that it was a lie, despite knowing that this outcome was a preposterous notion. Eric's eyes kept a steady gaze on the officer's operating fingers.

" **KLINK-KLING!"**

It was a loud and sharp noise, but it was a sound that he knew was going to be considered as mental keepsake, for many years to come.

"I know… That, uh… You're ready to get out of here, Coulter," the officer muttered. His placed his key ring back in its rightful place and then his fingers held onto a bar, before proceeding on opening the cell's door.

Still swimming in disbelief, the faction leader remained seated on the edge of the pallet. He viewed the guard slide the barred door to the side and allowing an opening in that wall of iron bars, to form. Eric saw the older man stand off to the side.

"Ah, Coulter?" the guard muttered as he eyed the former prisoner with concern. His right hand extended in front of himself and proceeded to draw an invisible line, starting from the cell's entrance to his side. A gentle and wordless gesture for the young man, reminding him that he was free.

'I'm… Actually… Free to go,' Eric quietly said to himself.

He made a slow ascend from off of the pallet. His eyes were still locked on the wall of bars and its new opening. Eric, then, proceeded to make diffident steps into the direction of the opening. Just when he was a foot away from the threshold that would carry him into freedom, his felt his left foot lose traction against the dusty, stoned floor. He lost his balance for a millisecond before he was able to regain it back. He recalled feeling something slide underneath his foot.

'What the hell—

Eyes ventured down to the floor, to inspect the offending object that caused him to stumble. A pair of well-known eyes greeted him. They were staring up at him as she continued to sit in the red, velvet chair and in her frumpy sweater.

"… _You should be thanking the stars that you'd had me!"_

 _"…What I'm trying to figure out is why now?! Y'all been broken up! For what? Seven years?!_ " the memory of Max had queried.

Eric had pondered the same thing, after learning everything about the culprits. He recalled bits and pieces from the conversations that he had with Miss Carole, for guidance, as he tried to make sense of everything. Then, there was that emotionally-unnerving and anger-inducing conversation that occurred two months ago, in the clinic's parking garage. On the outside, that conversation appeared to be a subtle and short tiff between the two of them. But, it was more than what that veneer presented.

And, from what he had managed to gather, he was able to draw one conclusion.

'She definitely… Definitely… Definitely wanted to—

"Hurt me," he softly concluded as he eyed the discarded photocopy.

"I'm sorry, Coulter… I didn't quite hear what you've just said," the officer confessed.

Eric looked away from the smirking Anissa and stared at the officer. "It was nothing. Just me thinking out loud," he explained. He gave the picture another glimpse and then he looked away, before proceeding to make his exit.

Once the leader, husband and father entered the long corridor, a strong shudder ran through him, leaving him with a 'cold-then-warm' sensation. His stomach churned and his adrenaline began to pump through his veins. He gave each ends of the jail wing a glance.

"Come this way, Sir. Please, follow me," the correction officer kindly instructed. The faction leader stared at the back of the officer for a second before he joined him. Halfway down the corridor, the cop turned his attention to the leader. "Sir… I understand that your mind must be… _Elsewhere_ , at the moment. Um, if you happen to remember anything that you will want from that cell, later on, then you can always have someone call us. We will bag and tag everything that's in there, so, you don't have to worry it being thrown out. Okay?"

Behind Eric's eyes, there was a recollection of the photo, where Anissa was posing while standing on the piers. It led to a memory that belonged to him. It began during a moment in their inaugural year. They had gone to the piers for the first time, now dressed in their Dauntless black. The memory consisted of a naïve Eric gazing at his first love as she casually sauntered down the boardwalk. She fixed him with a calculated glare and a reserved smile while he strolled with backward steps, smiling along the way. He was temporarily blinded by a sun ray, which took his line of vision from off of the beauty.

Then he was given another memory, as a replacement. The same kind of sunlight took his sight away from him, on his wedding day. It was given it back just as Nasira unleashed a hearty chuckle. She danced in her wedding gown to the music that was being played by a trio of Amity street performers, a few yards away. The slightly overcast sky didn't take away from her at all, he recalled.

Eric managed to pull himself from out of this reverie before it began to unsurfaced the emotions that he wanted to keep hidden. His brain did reminded him of the cop's latest inquiry. He glanced at the officer. "There's nothing in there that I want."

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

When Eric was brought into the precinct's central booking unit, it was close to 9:00am, on the previous morning. He was still dressed in his pajamas, a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, as well as, with his wife's and son's blood. Now, a day later, he left the precinct in a pair of mint-green scrubs and a pair of yellow, disposable shoe coverings. After the correction officer escorted him to the "Property" office, where he had gone through the discharge process, he was escorted to the precinct's lobby. Once there, he was greeted by a welcomed person, Nasira's older brother, Trigger.

Eric noticed that his brother-in-law was donning his uniform, short-sleeved shirt and baggy cargo boots that were stuck inside of military boots. He was also cool, calm and collected. There weren't any physical signs of distress or sadness, unlike his younger brother, Rogue. He welcomed Eric with a firm handshake and a hug.

"Let's get out of here, man," the stoic soldier kindly instructed.

Eric could only nod, in agreement.

Trigger led the way, from the precinct's lobby and finally to his vehicle, which was a parked, military-approved Hummer. Once Eric entered the vehicle, he tried to take solace in the fact that he was free and was on his way to see his family. As he sat in the front passenger seat, he took in the atmosphere, but there was something inside of him that wasn't… Right. His spirit felt agitated and at unrest about something. He couldn't delved further, when Trigger entered the vehicle.

"How's it going, man?" Trigger said to him. "You're alright, over there?"

Eric nodded his head as he viewed the quiet street, from the passenger side window.

"…It's a bit chilly out there. Do you want me to turn on the heat or something?"

He shook his head.

"I have a sweatshirt in the backseat that you can borrow—

"No," the faction leader said softly. Blue eyes peered at their reflection from the side view mirror. "No," he repeated with a shake of his head. When the reflected sight began to agitate his soul, he stared straight ahead, at the Hummer's leather dashboard. A wave of uncomfortable silence floated into the cabin of the truck.

"Listen, Eric…" Trigger suddenly announced, disrupting the wave, "…we've haven't found Anissa yet". He unleashed a purr-like exhale. "Trackers have been looking all-over…Xerxes have sent investigators to the places that we know about: her job, her apartment and even to her mother's place, over in Erudite. We have trackers waiting at that guy's place, just in case she goes there. We're not going to stop until we find her rotten ass."

As Trigger spoke, Eric nodded his head as he listened. In his head, he silently contemplated about his ex-lover's favorite places to go. With every mention, he quickly checked it off of the list. None of the places _fitted_ Anissa's lifestyle. She was Dauntless, but she still carried the sense of distinct taste like an Erudite. Aside from the piers and the infirmary, he couldn't think of any other place. 'I didn't even know…' A blunt, invisible force took a hold of his stomach, when he realized the fact that he didn't know her. For close to twenty years, he didn't obtain any information about her that didn't resemble her, at all. He was spoon-fed fantasies and lies.

"Eric…" Trigger called out, interrupting the leader's train of thought. Once Eric glanced over to him, he resumed speaking. "There's something… that I want to say to you," he confessed, gazing down at the steering wheel. "I just want to say… That this _shit…_ With Anissa… It ain't…" His sleepy, brown eyes focused on his brother-in-law. "…your fault, man."

That was it. The cause behind his sense of unrest. He finally caught that evasive bastard, thanks in large part to the man that sat next to him.

He knew it. He felt it, as it caused a ripple to erupt in his stomach. A convulsion that was so strong that he had to hold onto his stomach, in order to embrace the discomfort. His palm felt the muscles spasm and then relax.

"No one in the family think this is your fault, Eric," Trigger further explained. "We know that you had nothing to do with this. I had to tell you this, man, in case you're thinking it…" He turned away and stared out of the windshield. "Nassy, once, told me that you don't realize just how much you mean to her and the kids," he confessed. "That… You think that you're some kind of a fucked-up and you don't deserve anything that was good…" He glimpsed at his brother-in-law again. "…I know that if Nassy was awake, then she would've told you that it wasn't your fault…"

Eric had to turn away. He nervously stared at the dashboard. His eyelids performed a series of flutters, an imperfect and impromptu attempt of a defense against the approaching tears.

"…Eric, I'm here to tell ya that ya ain't a fuck-up, kid. You didn't ruin anything. Ya understand what I am saying to you?"

'It's my fault… It's my fucking fault. It's my—

A few seconds of silence and a lack of response later, Eric finally made an action. The internal battle that he was having with his sorrow had made him a defeated opponent. The stagnant environment inside of the Hummer's cabin became alive, when an unfiltered sob escaped from the troubled leader. It was followed by more gut-churning cries. Hands found their way to his face and he proceeded to make sets of smothered whimpers.

Trigger wasn't a dormant, silent spectator to this act of unraveling. Eric felt a warm hand clutch onto his left shoulder. It occasionally unlatched just so it could dole out paternal-like pats to his shoulder.

"My fault," he managed to confess, in between sobs. "…It's my fault…"

"Nah, man… It wasn't your fault," Trigger disputed. "None of this was your fault. There are only three people, who are responsible. Not you."

"…My fault. It's my… Fucking fault, man. Nassy… I almost killed her…" Eric's ragged breaths managed to form to say. He continued to cry.

"There's nothing that _you did_ …That led to this, man."

" _Nass, are you sure that—_

" _Eric…" Nasira tossed the leader a warning glare. "…if you ask me one more time if I need help getting to my jeep, I am going to—_

 _Her threat became overshadowed by the sudden eruption of jubilant babbling from one of the infants that were being carried in the stroller that was planted in front of her. Both parents turned their focus away from each other and they stared down at the child, who was responsible for the welcomed interruption._

" _That's right, Fear, you'll tell your daddy what I'll do to him, if he asks me that question again!" she cooed to the baby. Zephyr chuckled in response. Both parents lightly laughed as they stared at their son._

 _After the laughter died down and their eldest twin found a new interest in his hands, Nasira turned her attention back to her husband. She turned her back to the stroller and faced Eric. "So... Ummm…" She drew herself into his personal space. "…Dauntless Leader Coulter?" An all-knowing and mischievous smile appeared. She pressed her front up against him to the soundtrack of his smug laughter. She placed an embrace on his waist. She examined his eyes while he peered at her plump, glossy lips._

" _Yes?" said a seductive Eric with a hint of a smile on his lips._

" _Do you know what today is?" she asked, her voice delving into a husky tone._

 _There was a gravelly snicker from his chest. "Yeah… I do know! I've been…" He chuckled once again. "I've been counting down the days. Trust me, on that one!" There was a streak of laughter._

 _Her eyes briefly widened in surprise. "Oh yeah? You've been counting? Okay… So how many days has it been since we've… you know?"_

 _He gave into temptation and gave her lips a kiss. "Let's see… Starting from the last time we've—Mmm…. It's been… One…Hundred and…thirteen days." He tossed her a cocky glance._

" _It. Can't. Be."_

" _Mmm-hmm," he hummed as he nodded. "Mmm-hmm… You were eight months and a few days, when we last had sex. We only stopped because your doctor told us that we had to, in order to make sure that you stayed pregnant close to your due date."_

" _You mean 'Doc Cock-Block' as you like to call her?" She even had to laugh at the name choice._

" _Well, she was," he pointed out. He drew his forehead down to hers, where they formed a gentle head-butt. "With all of this sex-talk… Are you saying that you're ready?"_

" _May… Be," she told his lips._

" _Tonight, perhaps?" he queried. Silently, he was ardently praying that she was going to say 'yes' to his invitation. He was very appreciative of his wife's creative acts of fellatio and hand-jobs, but he was craving for more._

" _May… Be…" She pressed her front deeper into him. Once she felt the object of her desire, she subtly swayed against his clothed hardness. "…It depends…" she whispered as she listened to a soft moan come from her husband. "…on how quick the kids will fall asleep tonight," she finally answered._

 _Eric sworn to himself that today was going to be a difficult day of walking, as he worked. He had mentally rolled through the list of tasks that he had to do and tried to figure out which responsibilities he could shirk or delegate to another leader. He was determined to make it home as soon as possible. At the tail end of a whispery moan, he stated, "If I'm not home by then… Give Luke a tall glass of warm milk, it'll knock him right on his ass. Read "Great Expectations" to Zee, by the time you'll reach the 'page twenty-three', she's out. The boys… You know what to do."_

" _Look at you! You have everything figured out, huh?" she giggled. "I love that about—_

" _DING! GROUND…"_

 _Both pairs of eyes peered at the electronic counter that was above the elevator's doors. Indeed, it was the ground floor to the clinic. Both made their disapprovals known by grumbling._

"… _LEVEL!"_

 _He watched and felt Nasira pull away from his embrace. She turned to face the stroller and their sons. As she gathered up the boys' stuff, he took the time and opportunity to ogle his wife. Her choice in today's clothes, a black sweater and a pair of tight jeans, didn't help him with his hard-on. Since the boys' birth, she had managed to carry her 'after-birth' weight well. Very well, according to the husband. His eyes were focused on her bubbly and enticing ass, when his right hand shot out and gave her a smack. The abrasive sound from the collision caused an echo effect in the elevator. He watched her jump a little and he heard the squeaky chirp that came from her._

 _Nasira kept her back to him. She, instead, looked over her right shoulder and glanced at him. There was an understated smile on her lips. "Really?"_

 _A proud laugh came from him as the doors began to slide open._

" _Alright, Pa…" she said as she slipped the diaper bag's strap on her shoulder. "…I'll see you, tonight." She grabbed a hold of the stroller's handles and commandeered the device to face the elevator's exit._

" _I'll see you tonight, Ma," he announced as his thumb pressed down on the button that kept the doors from closing. He watched her push the stroller from out of the carriage. Then, there was a kiss. "Put on that thing, tonight," he whispered against her lips._

" _What thing?" she asked, puzzled._

" _You know… The red thing… With the strings and shit," he clarified._

 _She took in a breath. "Ahh—I don't know about that one, baby. The last time that I wore that one, it was before the boys and I was about twenty-three pounds lighter than I am now. If I try to put that shit on, my ass will swallow it!"_

" _Even better," he groaned. His left hand gave her ass a swat. As she yelped, he uttered, "See you later, baby"._

 _She left the elevator's threshold, giggling. When she was a foot away, she looked over her right shoulder. Her lips mouthed "Love you" before she resumed her pace. Eric continued to watch her walk away until he was certain that she left the clinic's building. Then he released the hold that he had on the button, so the doors could close. He rode the elevator down to the sub-level of the building, where the parking garage was kept._

 _Eric, with a cavalier attitude in his steps, followed the same path that he had set, after parking his truck. With his hands in his jacket's pockets, his mind lingered on the thought of his possible nighttime activities, for the night._

" _Well-well-well, it's nice to see you, Eric."_

' _Anissa…'_

 _His left foot stopped mid-air, in the middle of a step._

 _His mind put his fantasies on hold and they were quickly replaced with a stream of fragmented memories. The memories of his last meet-up with the woman that held onto his heart for so many years. Images of that night filled up his head. He recalled the woman's careless attitude, the proof of her infidelity and their violent confrontation._

 _With a racing heart, Eric casually spun around and came face-to-face with Anissa. His eyes took notice of her appearance. She looked the same, even though it has been six years since he has seen her. She looked good, health-wise. Her slightly-tanned skin held a healthy complexion and a glow. She was wearing her medical scrubs and a backpack on her back. He assumed that she was on her way to work._

" _Anissa…" His eyes zeroed in on the tight-lipped smile that was on her face. His brain reminded his soul that she wore that very same smile after he discovered that gold wristwatch on her bedside table. The center of his chest developed a mild burning sensation just as he started to feel irritated. "…long time, no see."_

" _Yeah… Dauntless Leader Eric, it's been a long time…" She had taken a few steps in his direction. Her right index finger pointed. "…I've seen you around, over the years…" Her smile became more pronounced. "…But, every time, you looked… Frazzled. You were with your kids, most of the time," she recalled, out loud._

 _His lips parted. He was about to speak, when Miss Carole's voice appeared in his mind. 'Keep it simple. There's no need for a history lesson, Eric.' His lips closed._

" _Congratulations… By the way," she told him. The smile lessened. "On your marriage and the growing family."_

" _T-Thank you," he stated. He silently cursed himself for making such a blunder in front of her._

" _And, I heard that you've had two more babies! Ah—Congratulations… Again."_

 _Eric nodded his head, once. "Yeah… Twin boys… Aug—_

' _No… Keep it simple. No names.' The moral specter that was Miss Carole returned._

 _He snapped his lips shut. A thin and impersonal smile was forced into place. "Well… It was nice seeing you, Anissa," he suddenly announced. "You… You have a good one." He presented his unfriendly smile to her and then turned away. He silently congratulated himself for handling that interaction with tact._

" _You know…"_

' _Of-fucking-course…'_

 _He stopped walking. Eric cursed himself for thinking that this meet-up was going to go as smooth as he thought. He unleashed a hefty exhale and then he turned back around to stare at his ex-girlfriend._

"… _I would've never taken you as the domesticated type, Eric," Anissa claimed. The tip of her left index finger delicately tapped the air as she spoke._

 _The delectable, full feast that he had managed to eat for his breakfast, now curdled, in his belly. His logic swiftly screamed out that she was trying to get under his skin. To remember Miss Carole's suggestions._

" _I always thought of you as some… Wild lion, you know," she confessed. She took on a leisure stroll into his direction. With her very slow steps, she continued to speak. "…A wild lion that was the king of Dauntless. Y-You would… You could enter in any room and people would just…Stop doing what they were doing and just look at you. You didn't have to lift a finger or make a threat and people would fear you. Remember our initiation?! Do you remember how people changed around you, as the time went on? How… The same guys who used to beat you up and steal your shit and laugh at you? Do you remember how they had gone from big and bad to being…Scared of you? Do you remember that?" Her golden-brown orbs held a sheen to them while her smiling lips lightly chuckled, signs that she was coasting on 'Memory Lane'. With a blink of her almond-shaped eyes, the glossy veneer was gone. "And now look… You're…" A wispy giggle came from her. "…You're like a Tabby cat."_

 _Her words were starting to take effect. The unfair depiction served as a can of kerosene for that fire that was buried deep in his chest. His ears listened to her laughter while his brain took note of the condescendence that was laced in each decibel. 'Keep calm. She wants you to be angry. Being angry will serve as a testament, a sign, that she's still ingrained in you.' The fire in him, had simmered. There was a long and quiet inhale through his nose. "Well…" he sighed. "Consider me to be a happy kitty, then…" he pointed out to her. "It was…" He thought better to even repeat that he enjoyed the conversation. "…ah—have a good day, Anissa." Then he relied on his instinct, which was to proceed to leave._

" _You won't be able to fully change, you know!" she shouted in the garage and to his retreating back. "You're Dauntless! Through and through! You're too much of a warrior to be… Going to little league games…Changing dirty nappies and escorting your wife to doctor's appointments… To-to 'Well Baby' appointments… No matter how many kids that woman of yours keep popping them out!"_

'… _your wife to doctor's appointments… 'Well Baby' appointments. 'Well Baby' appointments… 'Well Baby' appointments…'_

 _Eric replayed her statement in his mind. The hairs on the back of his head rose. Today… Today, was Zephyr and Augustus' 'fourth-month' check-up, their 'Well Baby' appointment. His brow frowned up as his eyes narrowed. 'She wouldn't have known that… Unless…She has been keep…'_

 _Eric stopped walking and turned to face his former love. He watched the corners of her plush lips flick up, causing her to smile._

' _I wouldn't be surprise if you've start seeing your ex-filly more often, Eric…' Memory of that visit…of that moment, filled his mind, suddenly. His last consultation with Miss Carole, the woman that turned up to be another maternal-like figure for him. He recalled having an easy session with her. He recalled the act of sitting on her porch. 'You got your position back…You're a leader again. Before then… She wasn't there. You remember that, Eric. She wasn't there for the blood, sweat, tears… The vomit, the anxiety attacks and the withdrawals either…You remember the people that were there…Just don't be surprise and remember what I've told you to do…'_

 _Knowledge was power. It was an adage that he was very-well familiar with, since he was originally from the faction that craved knowledge. He didn't think too much of the saying, when he was a child. If he had to put some consideration into expressing his opinion about it, then he would've said that the saying was dated and corny. But as he stood in that garage, some twenty-odd years later, he finally felt it, that power. 'Alright… If she wants to play this game, then we can play this fucking game.'_

" _Anissa…" His voice projected the stance of neutrality. It didn't detect a trace of anger, happiness or even sadness. "…what are you doing?" He didn't utter another word. He wanted that inquiry to hang in the air, between them. He wanted her to take that shit personally._

 _That cocksure smile and the jovial nature that was written on her face, faded, within seconds._

 _Then, the faction leader invoked the attitude that he needed, in order to pull off his next inquiry. His shoulders squared up while his hands flew out of his pockets and traveled to their sides. A lopsided grin appeared right before he said, "What do you want?"_

 _The reaction was instantaneous. A pink-tinted, blush exploded in her face. Her eyes grew smaller and a deep crease was imbedded into her brow. "What makes you think that I want something from you?"_

" _It's because…" he sighed. His shoulders then shrugged. His face created into an exaggerated frown. His head gently shook. "…I don't know…" His shoulders dropped into a relaxed state while his facial features smoothed out. "…You're in a parking garage, giving me a passionate lecture about being as harmless as a housecat, when all I've said was 'Long time, no see'. So…" He shrugged his shoulders again. "…do you want something from me, or, no?"_

 _The deep crease remained etched into the center of her forehead. Her eyes and her lips, however, had taken on a more malevolent tone. Her eyes grew into thin slits that showcased slivers of gold. Her pouty lips were now snarled. "You…Smug… Son-of a-bitch!" she hissed in anger. Her soft-soled shoes took quick strides against the asphalt-paved floor, into his direction. "…how dare you…"_

 _Eric smelled the scent of jasmine as she strode closer to him. The fragrance used to tantalize him. Now, it just caused anger and nausea._

"… _think that you can talk to me like I'm some goddamned meat-trap!" she practically growled. "I made you into who you are! I made you! I own you!"_

 _The sense of marvel about her abrupt display of rage, quickly turned into a sense of ire, once his ears heard her declaration of ownership. His fingers began to twitter about and his nostrils flared, signs of his discomfort._

"… _I've made you into the person that you are now!" A fingertip dug into his shirt-covered chest. "If it wasn't for me…taking you in, when your lush-of a-mother threw your ass out…" Her fingertip jabbed into his chest. "…I fed you food from my home! I made sure that you had a place to stay! I was there for you, when you had no one! I made you! I taught you what you needed to be, when it came to being a leader! I made you!" With every stern statement, her finger jabbed him. "If it wasn't for me, then you would've still been stuck in Erudite, living on the streets! Or, probably sweeping them, alongside that retard-of a-brother of yours! You should be thanking the stars that you had me!"_

 _Eric was swept up in a flash of red and a blanket of heat. The instinct to make her regret her words struck him like a punch. But restraint swiftly swooped in and stomped down the primal, violent urges. He was able to quickly stop his right hand's action, which was to grab that long neck of hers and drain the pulse from it. The subtle twitch in his appendage was his sole physical reaction._

 _Anissa, unaware of the line that she proverbially crossed, continued with her tirade. "I made you! I made you! I made—_

 _Her hands shoved at his chest. The strike caused Eric's feet to make stumbling, backward steps. Yet, due to his height and weight advantage, he was moved less than half a foot. He glared at the woman, who was closed the gap that was between them._

" _How dare you! How dare you think that you can treat me like I'm sure fucking…?"_

' _Stop this. Nip it in a bud,' his conscience alerted him._

"… _slut?! Ho—_

" _Anissa! Stop!" he calmly called out to me before subjected to more physical mistreatment from the small-statured woman. Her tiny hands unleashed a flurry of slaps against his arms and chest. He knew that she was capable of crossing the line. He also knew that he wasn't harmed by her blows, but his restraint could be worn down. "Anissa!" The warning wasn't heeded. There were more blows by her hands. "Ah-knee—_

 _The garage was a recipient of a growl-like groan. The furious hands were subdued by two rapid swipes from his larger paws. He snatched up her wrists and squeezed them with every inch of his strength. 'She wants to get close! Alright…' Without much effort, Eric pulled the shouting and furious Anissa into his personal space, an area that his wife was occupying, a moment ago. "Let me make one thing clear to you: you didn't make me into shit," his voice rumbled. She tried to pry herself free with a case of fierce struggling. But he just squeezed her wrists tighter and pulled her back._

" _Get off of—_

" _No! You. Fucking. Listen. To. Me…" he warned, in a feral tone._

 _The defiant Anissa continued to struggle and try to free herself._

 _"You don't own any part of me. You've never made me. You've don't have any right to even mention my wife or my children. Everything… Everything… that makes me 'me' had nothing to do with you. If I had to make a list of people that made me, you wouldn't even be on it! If I had to compare… To measure… The impact that you've had in my life… And compare it… To the amount that my wife has given me… You can't fucking measure! The only thing that you've represented in my life was fucking death! Everything, every-fucking-thing that you've done for me… You only done it, so you could benefit from it! It took me years to figure that shit out! I was such a fucking idiot, when it came to you. You had everything planned and lined up, didn't you? As long as I was on that shit… It just crippled me even further. Made me into the person that you knew… I didn't know it, then. I know now." A few rushed and harsh breaths came from his parted lips. "The only reason why you're going on and on about my life, about my wife and everything else is because you have nothing! You're a doctor, but so is the hundreds of doctors that are living in this city! You're just a glorified nurse. That's the reason you're here and not in Erudite… You're fucking mediocre. You're just a beautiful face amongst the sea of beautiful faces. So, don't give me that bullshit about you making me. Without my ass, you wouldn't even be here in Dauntless. You've would've been in Erudite, with your mother, trying to fleece decrepit old geezers in low-rent, country clubs!" A ragged, fierce breath escaped his mouth. He gave the woman a low-powered push away from him. As she was about to fall from out of his arm's reach, he released her wrists. He watched her take a few backwards steps. "You're as valuable to me as a grain of sand that's on a beach," he revealed._

 _The faction leader observed the woman one last time. Then without saying a word, he turned away from her and walked away. He didn't bother to quicken his pace. He didn't bother to look over any of his shoulders and glimpse at his former flame. He was done. Done with her. Done with that part of his life. Done with that simmering and hidden layer of anger and resentment that he carried for her._

 _Minutes later, Eric made it to his vehicle. As he was about to ignite the engine, movement from his rear view mirror caught his attention. He glanced at the hanging charm that gently swaying in the air. It spun in the low-grade wind that was circulating in the car. His eyes scanned both photos, which were framed in two, thin layers of laminate. He would view the candid photo of his wife and then the photo of his four children, which was taken hours before the newborn twins were discharged from the hospital. After a minute passed, Eric retrieved his phone from out of his jacket's pocket. He quickly dialed up his secretary, his cousin, Mathilda. He informed her that he was going to take the rest of the day off._

' _So what that I have become a domesticated kitty… I am a very, very happy kitty," he mumbled as he started the ignition._


	6. Chapter Four-B: Holding On

**AUTHOR'S NOTES** : Here's the second half to Chapter Four...

Ummm... I think that's all I have to say. For now.

*waves* Bye!

 **RATING** : RATED M FOR "MATURE"/ NC-17

 **WARNING** : THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT SUBJECT MATTER: ADULT LANGUAGE, STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE. THIS STORY IS AN A/U FANFIC. CHARACTERS FROM THE "DIVERGENT SERIES" ARE OOC IN THIS STORY.

 **DISCLAIMER** : I don't own any of the material from the "Divergent Series". Just the O/Cs.

Thank you for all of the reviews and the followings.

Enjoy.

* * *

 _ ***~oMLo~***_

The trek from Trigger's Hummer to his apartment was eerily quiet and calm. The usual-populated and lively neighborhood was devoid of any signs of life, with the exception of himself and the occasional parade of birds. The faction leader took into consideration the fact that it was a Sunday morning.

Before his feet could make it pass the threshold and enter the building's lobby, Eric's attention was drawn to a heavy reminder from yesterday morning's tragedy. His tired and weary sight locked onto the strip of land that was forty-three feet from where he was standing. He immediately noticed that the blood and the crime scene tape has been cleaned up. He quickly and quietly issued a sense of gratitude towards the person, who chose to take on that task. The only reminders that were leftover from yesterday's event were the blotches of pink tint that were on the cement-paved sidewalk, the few stripes of yellow plastic that hung off of a street lamp's post and Eric's mind.

The travel from the lobby to the leaders' wing of the apartment complex was uneventful, with the exception of a pair of interactions. Both the building's doorman and the concierge approached Eric after he set foot in the elaborately-decorated lobby's waiting parlor. Both of the building's employees issued quiet but thoughtful condolences, as well as, rushed offers of aid, if it was needed. There were a few mumbled "Thanks" from the tired man and the silent statement about wanting to go home, the statement was made by his feet, when they chose to keep walking as they talked.

He managed to make it to the leadership wing of the building. Eric was welcomed with another reminder of yesterday, when the leader spotted Dauntless soldiers loitering the corridor. He swiftly figured that Max must've issued an order of protection for his family, ever since it was a personal assault against him.

As he strolled to the apartment's front door, he felt like he was being led through a parade. Every officer lined up against each wall and performed salutes as he walked the hallway. Once he arrived to his apartment's entrance, he was bathed in the residual energy that belonged to his wife. It felt as if Nasira was standing in front of him, beside him, floating above and below. His nose took in the mixed fragrances of amber, vanilla and oranges that still lingered in the air. Nerves feeling rattled, he took in a breath and then his right fingertips typed in the code to unlock the door.

"Daaa-dee!" Zola happily shrieked, as soon as, he stepped into his home.

His watery eyes sought after his daughter's presence. He found her, sitting at the island countertop. She appeared to be in the process of eating breakfast, when he came in. The lump that invaded his throat could only make him whimper out, "Zee". A second later, he watched this child of moxie scale down the tall stool and then run over to him.

He was heavily reminded of his wife's presence, when Zola was in his arms. His brain released flashes of his wife, his warrior, as she scooped up their squalling newborn daughter after she was just expelled from her body. Of the times when she would just barge into his office, his bedroom from Dauntless Village, the training room in The Mind and in their bathroom. Her brown eyes filled with the fierce determination to protect him, whether if it was from an anxiety attack or from his withdrawal from the Wept. There were montage of her as he held her in his arms, from the 'early morning' rituals, to the flashbacks of her as they relaxed.

His cries were ended up being muffled by Zola's tiny shoulder.

"Daaa-dee... Are you crying?" he heard Zee queried.

"Zee, baby girl..."

"Zee-Zee, baby..."

Both Hexa's and Roxy's voices blended together as they converged upon father and daughter. Eric felt a pull on his shoulders while there was a gentle touch to his forearms. They were able to successfully pull Eric and his daughter apart. Roxy was able to escort Zola back to the island counter while Hexa spoke calming words to Eric, in a hushed tone.

Once the sobbing and the tears ceased, he realized that he was kneeling on the living room's floor, a foot away from the front door.

"Are you ready to get up, Big Guy?" Hexa lightly queried.

He gently nodded. Then, at a gingerly pace, he managed to stand up. Hexa's comforting hand had never left his shoulder.

"There you go, Big Guy."

Thick fingers made hasty and clumsy catches for the tears that were spilling.

"Daaa-dee..."

Bleary eyes focused on the little girl that held a spoon in her left hand. Her dark gray eyes were on him. The thinly-masked sadness that were stored in them caused a pulse to run through his chest.

"...are you sad because Mommy and Luke are sick?"

Eric nodded his head. "Yee-Yeah," he whimpered.

Zola offered up a smile. "Well... They're going to get better..." She looked over to Roxy, who was standing on the other side of the counter. "...Right, Aunt Roxy?"

The woman nodded her head. "That's right, kiddo," she affirmed.

"Damn straight, Zee-Zee!" Hexa told the child, in a cheerful tone.

Zola gave Hexa a confirming nod. Her eyes focused on Eric. " _See_ , Daaa-dee?! Nothing to worry about!" She returned to eating her oatmeal.

The two women, then, turned their attention to Eric.

"Eric..." Roxy softly sighed. "...why don't you go and take a shower and get cleaned up, mmm? I think that it would make you feel better."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Hexa pointed out. "Get the prison-stink off of ya!"

" _Hexa_!" Roxy grunted while giving the shorter woman a pluck on her shoulder.

Even under the deep fog of sadness, he was able to feel the humor from off of that joke. A weak smile appeared. He gave both women each a glimpse. "Thank you," he whimpered. He proceeded to walk away from the women and towards the island counter, to his daughter's location. One brawny arm wrapped around her tiny shoulders and then there was a nuzzling against the large crop of gathered curls. He pulled his face off of her hair and muttered, "I love you, Butt-Face".

She turned her natural, downturned eyes towards him. "I love you, too, Big Head. Get better, Daaa-dee."

Lips found her temple and gifted her with a kiss. "Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome, Daaa-dee."

* * *

 _ ***~oMLo~***_

 _Soft, warm lips grazed the skin that was around his ear._

 _"Eric... Wake up," Nasira whispered._

Eric's eyes snapped open as he jerked upright into a sitting position. "Nass?" He turned his attention to her side of the bed, only to find it empty. He scanned the other side of their bedroom, in search of his wife's presence. "Nass?" he called out again. When he didn't hear any response, he decided to investigate. He swung his legs off of the side of the bed. He was about to stand, when he realized that he was naked. He aimed his focus down his body, with the intention of observing his legs, but his distracting right hand diverted his goal. He peered at his bruised knuckles and slightly swollen fingers.

"- _ayy, Sir! Mister-I mean-Dauntless Leader Coulter, you can't leave! I need to ask you a few-_

" _I-I got_ -

" _Daunt... Hey! Hey! I'm not done questioning you! Hey, don't-_ -

" _My wife! Hey! Hey! Where are you going with my wife?! Hey! Hey! I'm-_

" _Dauntless Leader... I'm not done talk-_

His right hand flinched as he remembered the intense moment.

His memory was restored as he sat on the edge of the mattress. The moments that came after he left his sisters-in-law and Zola downstairs. He recalled everything that he've managed to momentarily forget.

After ascending up the stairs and had gone to his bedroom, he decided to follow through with Roxy's suggestions of getting cleaned up. The fatigued and grief-stricken man didn't realize just how much he wanted a shower until the moment of when the warm water doused him. The shower session proved to be vital for his tired body. Once he was clean enough, he had gone back to the master bedroom. Once there, Eric had every intention of getting re-dressed and then start up his trip to the hospital. His body, however, had other plans for him. There was a downpour of fatigue as soon as he sat on the edge of their mattress. It seemed to have explored every bone, tendon, joint and organ that was inside of his body. His brain and his ego thought better than to argue with his weary body. He made the promise of taking a short nap, as he lowered his body onto the mattress.

The subjects of Nasira and Luke weighed heavily on his mind as he waited for his slumber to come to collect him.

 _Eric knew that it was time for him to get up. He had pressed the 'snooze' button on his cell phone's alarm, six times already. 'Six times... That's gotta be a new record,' he admitted to himself. He created a gruff exhale as he mentally ran through his list of tasks, the responsibilities that came along to being a faction leader. He knew that he couldn't slack off now, especially since the initiation trials were coming up, in a couple of weeks._

' _Alright, Coulter...' his brain grumbled. 'Enough of the bullshit. You gotta get up and get out of here.' His fingers reached up to his face and to his eyelids. A yawn escaped him as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from out of his eyes. 'Come on...' He opened his eyes and rolled his head to the side, to catch a glimpse. '...and get-_

 _He had gone silent. His brain managed to cut his own thought off. There was a subtle punch to his chest and stomach, which was made by an invisible fist. And it all happened as soon as he came upon the peaceful and enviable scene, which consisted of the mere viewing of his sleeping bed mates. No, not mere. There was nothing mere about it, thought Eric. Not when he couldn't take his eyes from off of it and there wasn't a good reason to keep watching them._

 _Unaware of Eric's prying eyes, Nasira and Luke slept, taking up the space that was in the center and the other end of the mattress. Both mother and son were laying on their left sides. Nasira lain behind their boy with a protective arm casually embracing his tiny body. As Luke peacefully slept, his tiny right hand was clutching onto the sleeve of Eric's tee-shirt. Streams of soft snores came from the both of them. The silence from the bedroom's occupants allowed the noises from the outside to become the soundtrack for Eric's observation. Muffled sounds of Chicago's traffic penetrated the atmosphere. Watching them as the sun splashed its bright orange rays on their sleeping forms._

 _The faction leader gained an idea, which felt like an instinctual urge. He rolled onto his left side and fetched his cell phone from off of the nightstand's top. His fingertips navigated through the walls of apps that were on the screen until he was able to find the 'camera' app. A few minutes later, his phone was carrying six additional photos._

 _As his fingertips and eyes viewed his latest acquisition, he heard, 'You're treading into dangerous territory, my friend,' being blared in his head._

After discovering that he had managed to sleep for six hours, Eric slipped from his bed and proceeded to get ready for his trip, and possibly his stay, to the hospital. He put on some clothes and then packed a small, rolling suitcase with items that he believed Nasira and Lucien would want, after they woke up. Afterwards, Eric decided to check up on the women and Zola.

Upon descending the staircase, he took note of the living room's current climate. It was tidy, subdued and free of toys, which spoke of just how much their home-life has changed within the past twenty-four hours. He found Roxy in the kitchenette area. She was in the process of feeding Zephyr while Augustus watched, from his perched Moses basket, at the island counter. Hexa, on the other hand, was in the living room. Facing the holographic screen of the vid-con and watching a movie. Judging by the soft suckling sounds that he heard from that location, she was performing her own nursing duties with her son, Magnus.

'Zola,' his instinct called out.

Blue eyes widened from the realization. They scanned the entire lower level of the condominium. Meanwhile his ears were listening for any tell-tale signs of his daughter's presence. As soon as he reached the bottom step, he asked, "Where's Zola?"

Both pairs of eyes peered at him. But it was Hexa, who answered him.

"She's out-

" _Out?! Out where-?!"_

"Salamander-

" _Who_?!" Eric's lips spewed out as a look of confusion took over his face. " _Who is 'Sala_ -

" _You know her!_ She..." Hexa flung her left hand behind her, into the direction of the front door. "...is your neighbor..."

' _Salamander_?! I don't have a fucking neighbor named 'Sala- Oh! Oh! Not ' _Salamander_ '... It's 'Sala-

"The Salazars. She had gone out with the _Salazars_ , Hexa. Not ' _Salamander_ '," he corrected the woman. "They have a daughter named Josefina. She's Zee's best friend," he further explained.

"'Salamander'. ' _Salazar_ '... sounds the same to me," she called out over her right shoulder. "The mother came over, a few hours ago, and asked if she could take Zee-Zee off of our hands for a few hours. She took Zee and her daughter to the park. She's going to ask you later about a possible sleep-over," Hexa informed him.

"I think that would be a great idea," Roxy interjected. "It gives her some well-needed distraction. She's been hiding it, but I think she's afraid. We've been telling her that Nassy and Luke are sick and stuff, like they have the flu or something. But I think she senses something is wrong."

Eric glimpsed at the two women. "Well, I want to be the one who tells her the truth, so can you please keep telling her that they _do_ have the flu... _Please_."

"Sure, Eric."

"Yeah, Big Guy."

His feet carried him into the island counter's direction. He slid behind Roxy's seated form. She was embracing Zephyr in her arms and feeding him from a bottle. He looked over her right shoulder and down at his son, who was looking at him with interest.

"Hey, Fear, hey!" he greeted his son, with a happy tone. It was a genuine feeling. It was the one that has been dormant for almost two days.

"Hey, Eric..." Roxy said in a conspicuous tone. "...Um, we're... Running low... On _milk_ , for the boys," she informed him.

He knew what she was referring to, when she said 'milk'.

Breast milk. Since their first day on this earth, Auggie and Fear has been nursing off of Nasira's breasts. She's managed to keep them healthy and full just based off of her milk. She felt proud of that fact. Especially since she wasn't able to have that experience with Zola. As an infant, she spurned her mother's milk and preferred the canned formula.

'Shit... Shit-shit-shit!' He forgot. He totally didn't think about that. He had other problems that took his attention away.

"We have enough of it for tonight's and tomorrow morning's feedings. So, that's not a problem..." She glanced down at Zephyr. "...Unless, you're able to get Nassy to pump..." She glanced over her right shoulder. "...Hexa... Offered to... _You know._ "

Finding the idea to be ridiculous, he gave Roxy a look of annoyance. "She would _...fucking kill me_ , if she found out that another woman breastfed the boys," Eric informed her, of Nasira's possible reaction.

"Well, the other option is buying a few cans of formula and have the boys-

"That's the _best_ option," he shot out.

"I'll tell Trigger to buy a few cans before he gets here to pick you up," Roxy pointed out.

"Good idea," Eric surmised. "But, I'm going to bring that _pump-thing_ with me, tonight. I can, at least, _try_."

The conversation was interrupted by the sounds of aggressive cooing. Both adults looked down at Zephyr, who was in the midst of pulling away from the bottle.

"You had enough, Little Man?" swooned Roxy as pulled the bottle away.

A shriek was unleashed from the six-month-old baby boy. He began to fidget in his aunt's arms, a few seconds later.

"Alright, big boy," Roxy chuckled. "If you want to go to your papa so badly..." She rearranged the boy's position in her arms, so a hand-off could be made between herself and Eric. Once Zephyr was being carried by his father, "While you got him..." She peeled the feeding towel from off of her left shoulder. "You can burp him while I can feed Augustus." She handed the father the towel. Then she turned her attention to the baby that was patiently waiting for his feeding. She picked up the chubby baby from his resting place and she held him in front of her. "Hey, handsome little man..." she chirped. "...Hey, handsome!"

Chocolate-brown eyes focused on her and their owner's lips released a soft chortle.

" _Hey, gorgeous boy_! _Heeeyyy_!" Roxy cheered. "Are you hungry?" She proceeded to shift him in her arms.

Meanwhile, Eric turned away from the scene. With his son in his arms, he proceeded to get the baby ready for his burping. The child started to fuss. "I know, Fear, I know. You hate this. Yes, buddy, your dad is a bastard for doing this to you," he muttered.

"How do you know that? Cos, I would like to teach Rogue on how to know. I am tired of him second-guessing everything that he does," Hexa stated as she walked pass his back, in order to get into the kitchen.

"It's not hard," Eric said softly as he eyed his son's frowned up face. "It's..." The inquisitive father turned around, so he could talk with Hexa. He was aware that she was in the kitchen. His eyes peeled their focus from off of Zephyr. "...just paying a-ten..." His eyes locked onto Hexa and her topless chest as she stood in front of the sink. The shock snatched away his train of thought while the words managed to die on his tongue. Out of instinct, he slightly flinched before quickly turning his back to her.

" _Hex-aah!_ " Roxy sighed, playfully scolding the woman.

"What?" the topless woman muttered, sounding disinterested and completely occupied with a task.

"Put a shirt on," Roxy ordered. "Your boobs are scaring Err-

"No, they're not," he pointed out. "They... They just caught me off guard," he explained. Roxy chuckled.

Hexa snorted in disbelief. "They're just tits. Just a pair of _saggy_... _leaking_ titties," she pointed out. "If you've seen one pair, then you've seen them all."

"Mmm..." He could only hum. "...Well... _That's true_. But, still...don't tell Nassy, or, your husband that I've saw your... _Breasts_ ," he reluctantly stated.

"You mean... My _titties_ ," she told him.

He could sense the mischief that was coming from her. He didn't have a bratty sister, but Hexa was the closest thing to one. "Yes... Whatever you want to call... _Them_ ," he told her as he eyed the vid-con's screen.

Both women chuckled. Eric smirked and continued trying to get Zephyr to burp.

After a moment of listening to the sounds of his hand patting on Zephyr, Roxy's singing as she fed Augustus and Hexa's handiwork as she made herself a late lunch, Eric disrupted the flow. "They've got the guys... The ones... Who did this."

" _Whaaa_..."

" _What_?!"

Both women's voices were drenched with shock. The exclamations were soon followed by the sound of a soft burp. Attentions were briefly on the child before returning to the topic.

"So, they've caught the asshole?" Hexa asked.

"You said ' _guys_ '... There were two of them?" Roxy queried, milliseconds later.

Eric cautiously eyed Roxy, in case Hexa could've been within eye shot. He nodded. "Yeah... There were two of them."

"When they were grabbed?" Hexa inquired.

"Yesterday," he answered. "One..." He rearranged Zephyr in his arms, so the child was comfortable again. "...was nabbed in the afternoon. The other one... Last night." He glanced down at his son to inspect and to make sure that he was comfortable. "One... The one, who shot Nassy and... L-Luke... _He was a goddamned kid_..." He heard the astonished gasps. "...A kid. An Abnegation kid-

" _Abnegation_?!"

"It was...Why would an Abnegation kid would...?"

"How could a kid from there could...?"

"...do _such a thing?_!" Both women uttered simultaneously.

Eric's eyes locked onto Roxy, who was now standing in front of him. "He's from Abnegation. He... He was caught because Nassy managed to hurt him..."

"That's our girl," he heard Hexa mutter.

"...and he had gone to a midwife's office instead of the city's hospital. He was taken, when was there. They interrogated him. He ended up telling the detectives everything."

"Why did he do it?" Hexa asked. "I mean... I don't get it... I-Yesterday, I heard some rumblings. Some rumors... Folks were blaming the Factionless for this. I didn't believe it. I-I-I know a few of them... They wouldn't do this. They would-

" _He was paid to do it_. This is how the other guy fit into this. He was paid... He was supposed to kill Nassy. Luke... Was... At the...wrong time and wrong place," explained Eric.

" _What_?!" Both women had spoken. The blurted declaration led to a disorganized melody of questions that came from the two of them. Eric had to raise his left hand in order to shut them up.

"Can you, at least, tell us _why_ this guy wanted Nassy to die? Do you _know_?" Roxy asked.

"Yes. Yes, I know," he reported.

"Well?" Hexa blurted, after listening to silence for a few seconds.

Eric was hesitant to tell his sisters-in-law about Anissa's involvement. Despite Trigger's comforting words, the self-imposed accusation still lingered in his mind. He took a deep breath. On the exhale, "The man... The one, who paid... He was just following an order. A request, really..." He glanced at Zephyr, who was now sleeping. "...It was my ex-girlfriend, Ah-knee-

" _Ördög kurva!_ " Hexa abruptly growled.

Her ferocity caused a shiver to run down Eric's back and for Roxy to flinch.

" _Tudtam, hogy rossz. Élni fogom, ha megatalálom!"_

Eric had no idea what Hexa just growled out. He assumed that it was Hungarian, ever since she has told him, once, that her people were from the former land of Hungary. He gave Roxy a glimpse before he slightly turned his upper body and peered over his left shoulder. All he was able to see was a flash of flesh and a small puff of red hair.

"How could that... _Dog_... _Do this to them_?! How could she... Do this to...to... to-to-to _you_?! To _these kids_?! To you, Roxy?! To-To _Rogue_?! To Trigger?! To _Ms. Davina_?! Ms. Davina... _Oh God_... _I was there_... When she heard about it... She... She-I've never seen anyone... No one was able to pick her up. R.J. was there, too. He-He..."

"Hexa?" whispered Roxy. It was a snippet of her actual voice. But it was caked with concern.

"...was there. _My own child was there_! _Scared out of his mind_! I want to see her..." Hexa breathed out. "... I want to..."

Eric listened to a loud gasp and then a soft sob, come from Hexa.

"...see _a_ _kutya_ and I want her to feel the pain that she's done to us!" Hexa growled. "I want..." The woman wasn't able to finish. Her voice cracked and the remnants became cries.

Seconds later, there was a sharp sound of a clattering dish against a counter. Both Roxy and Eric turned their gazes to the usual-feisty woman. They were both greeted by the sight of Hexa's bare, tattooed back. The woman faced the sink and she had her hands holding onto her face as she cried.

"Zola ain't the only one, who has been putting up a brave front..."

Eric looked over at Roxy.

"...The little peanut over there has been holding back while running this fort. I don't think she managed to sleep at all," reported Roxy while looking at Hexa and feeding Augustus. "Plus, her case of the 'Baby Blues'..." Her voice trailed off.

Eric glanced at his short-statured sister-in-law. Judging by the trembling in her shoulders, she was still crying. He swiftly concluded that she was right about Anissa's actions. She managed to hurt everyone, not just Eric.

"Give her a moment," Roxy told him. "She'll cry and then end up becoming her smart-aleck self." The woman returned to her seat. A minute later, she spoke up again. "Oh! I'm sorry, Eric..."

The father looked over to Roxy.

"...where is my home-training? I should've asked you if you were hungry."

" _No-no-no_... _It's okay_! It's okay, Roxy! You're busy with Augustus..."

"Lemme just finished feeding-

" _Don't worry, everybody! Let me cook_!" Hexa suddenly announced. With her back still facing them, she wiped her face with her hands. "Roxy... Eric... Continue to be with the babies and I'll cook." She looked over her left shoulder. " _Okay_?"

Both adults muttered agreements.

Hexa offered up a weak smile. "Good!" she stated with a nod. She turned away and began to open up cupboards' doors. "Zola... Asked me last night... About making mashed potatoes and meatloaf... I think that's a good idea... I'll throw in a vegetable. And... I'll make enough, Eric, so you can take some up to the hospital... Also, some for Rogue's and Trig's big asses."

Eric offered up a quick "Thank you".

"Ummm... _Hexa_?" Roxy stated a minute later. "Tonight's dinner sounds delicious and everything... But, um... Can you please slip on a shirt... Bra... _Anything_ , before you start to cook, please?" She cast the topless woman with a discerning glare.

" _I will! I will! I_ just want to... Take out the pans and pots, first!"

Eric just reacted by forming a tight-lipped grin at Roxy.

"Cos ma'am... I only want _one brand of milk_ inside of my mashed potatoes," Roxy teased her.

This time, a low snicker escaped his mouth.

"Yeah-yeah-yeah," grumbled Hexa.

A second later, the room was filled with the sounds of shuffling feet against the floor. It started in the kitchen and was now traveling.

"I'm 'bout to put on a shirt, now, _mom_..." the diminutive woman declared. As she was about to past Eric, she gave the back of his head a firm hand slap.

He flinched in his seat. " _Ah! What-the-fuc-_

"That's for laughing," she clarified as she traveled to the couch.

"You need to also cover up those awful tattoos that you have," Roxy teased. "Looking like prison tats," she muttered.

Fully-growned chuckles escaped his mouth, now. As he laughed, he was welcomed with the notion that the storm was over.

* * *

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE:

For the Chapters Five and Six, I've decided to post them on the same day. So, I will need some time, okay?

The reason behind this is due to the fact that Chapter Five will have grutuitous depictions of violence and it's going to make people uncomfortable. Rather than read it, they can read Chapter Six, the final chapter.


	7. Chapter Five: The Spider's Act

**Author's Notes:**

Alright... So, if you just so happen to follow my Tumblr page, then you should already know about this incident.

So, for the folks that are uninformed: Long story short... I am posting Chapter Five, right now. And, it's only because I have been threatened by my own flesh and blood... My grandmother.

Yes. My grandmother.

Here's another 'long story made short': a cousin of mine is a "Eric and Nasira" fan-girl. She's the very first, to be honest, ever since she was the person, who reads the *in my Lady of Rage voice* "roughest-toughest" first drafts of every chapter, from every story.

Anyway, she was whining... Yet again. My grandmother caught onto our conversation... Being that she 'baby' and the most coddled child, out of the bunch... Here we are!

So, rather than be "snatched bald and cooked like a Thanksgiving turkey", here's 'Chapter Five'.

I have totally scrapped the final chapter and now is writing a new version, currently. So, I'm busy with that...

 **RATING:** **RATED M FOR 'MATURE'/NC-17**

 **PAIRING:** **Eric/OFC**

 **WARNING:** **THIS STORY IS AN A/U FAN FICTION TALE** FOR THE "DIVERGENT SERIES". **THIS IS NON-CANON** (SO, DON'T COME WHINING IN PM'S ABOUT ERIC'S BEHAVIOR AND CHARACTERISTICS, PLEASE). **THIS STORY CONTAINS CHARACTERS THAT OOC, AS WELL.** THIS STORY WAS RATED 'M' FOR A REASON: THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT SUBJECT MATTER, WHICH IS STRONG ADULT LANGUAGE, STRONG SEXUAL MATTER, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND OTHER ADULT CONTENT.

Okay. I am going to take off the announcer's hat, in order to issue this very special warning, because this chapter needs this warning.

Chapter Five contains detailed, depictions of violence that happens to a woman and a child. In particular, violence that happens to a mother and her child.

Let me repeat... Chapter Five contains detailed, depictions of violence that happens to a woman and a child. In particular, it is violence that is committed to a mother and her child.

With that being said, **if you think that it is going to leave you feeling unsettled and highly bothered, then don't read this chapter.** Please wait for the next chapter.

 **DISCLAIMER:** I don't own anything from the "Divergent Series". None. All of the novels' rights belong to Veronica Roth.

"The Spider and the Fly" is not mine, as well. It was written by the talented Mary Howitt.

Before I go, I want to say 'thank you' and 'much love' to every reader who has taken the time out to read my story... Who have left comments... Who have 'favorited' my story and is following... Who have left the occasional, playful threat for me... LOL!

I advise you to have some tissues handy. Perhaps, your favorite 'sad songs' mixtape on standby. Oh, you definitely going to need a bottle of wine... Or two.

Now...

Here's Chapter Five...

* * *

 _"_

 _W_ _ill you_ _walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,_  
 _'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;_  
 _The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,_  
 _And I've a many curious things to show when you are there."_

 _"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,_  
 _For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."  
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;_  
 _Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly._  
 _"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,_  
 _And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"_

 _"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,_  
 _They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"  
_

 _Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend what can I do,_  
 _To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?_  
 _I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;_  
 _I'm sure you're very welcome — will you please to take a slice?"_

 _"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,_  
 _I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"_

 _"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,_  
 _How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!_  
 _I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,_  
 _If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."_

 _"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,_  
 _And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."_

 _The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,_  
 _For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:_  
 _So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,_  
 _And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly._

 _Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,_  
 _"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;_  
 _Your robes are green and purple — there's a crest upon your head;_  
 _Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"_

 _Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,_  
 _Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;_  
 _With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,_  
 _Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue —_  
 _Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing!_  
 _At last,_  
 _Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast._  
 _He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,_  
 _Within his little parlour — but she ne'er came out again!_

 _And now dear little children, who may this story read,_  
 _To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:_  
 _Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,_  
 _And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly._

 _~ Mary Howitt_

* * *

 ** _*~oMLo~*_**

When he first heard the sound, he thought that it was just a figment of his sleep-induced imagination. But then, he was gifted with another round of heavy thumping. He didn't have to open his eyes and investigate. He knew that they were sounds that came from shoes being tossed and crashing into the closet's walls. With his eyes closed and his face partially pressed into his pillow, his left hand reached out for the other side of the mattress. After coming across cold sheets, he figured out that his wife was the culprit.

 _"Thah-thump!"_

 _"Thah-thump!"_

Eric realized that he couldn't go back to sleep. Not with this noise that was—

 _"Thah-thump!"_

 _"Thah-thump!"_

"No…" It was spoken in the shape of a frustration-laced sigh. "Not in here… I thought that… I know that I'm not crazy. I swear that I bought another one," he heard her mutter to herself.

 _"Thah-thump!"_

 _"Thah…"_

"Should be here. Should be here. Should be here…"

 _"…thump!"_

Eric opened the most functional eye that he possessed, at the moment. He was greeted by the sight of a bedroom wall.

 _"Thah-thump!"_

A low raspberry sound floated from his wife's current location. He imagined her standing in their closet with her hands on her hips and looking perplexed, as well as, miffed for not coming across the object of her desire. A second later, he heard a mumbled, " _Oh…Kay_. _Where-in the-hell is it?_ I know that I had another one…"

 _"Thah-thump!"_ sound managed to erupt into their bedroom, four seconds later.

Despite only displaying blurred vision, Eric's only functioning eye followed its usual morning path. The line of sight focused on the red, digitized numbers that were showcased on the bedside alarm clock. There was a quick blink of his eye and he was welcomed with a clear viewing. He observed the face of the clock and came across a set of three, numerical fives. 'It's five… _It's almost six in the goddamned morning and she's cleaning_ …" A snort came from his nose. "And it's a fuckin' Saturday morning,' he grumbled to himself.

 _"Thah-thump!"_

"Alright," he croaked. 'That's enough.' With a hearty groan escaping his throat, Eric slipped his face into the pillow and proceeded to brace himself for the impending day, despite only running off of three hours of sleep. The faction leader braced himself for the coldness that awaited him, once he set foot from out of the warm and comfy bed. He readied himself for the potential soreness that was going to explode in most of his joints and muscles, which were post-activity effects from yesterday's work-outs. He unleashed a brusque grunt into his pillow before using his arms' strength to lift himself into a seated, upright position. Once in his new seating arrangement, Eric stretched his shoulders and arms to chase away the kinks. Both eyes focused on the closet's entrance, which was on the other side of the master bedroom.

Eric parted his lips to speak, but a gruff-sounding cough unexpectedly slipped from his mouth.

 _"Eric?"_ he heard Nass call out, a few seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"Did I wake you?" she queried, her remorse was evident to him.

'Yes.'

"No," he lied.

There was a stream of silence that came from the closet, before it was disrupted by a meek, "I'm sorry".

Eric felt his face grown hot with shame. "It's… It's alright, Nass. It's alright, baby. I have to get up anyway. _Remember?"_ His hand scratched at his neck. "You're taking Luke today to his swim class. I need to get my ass up anyway, just in case one of the boys wake up and need to be fed or something," he explained right before kicking the bed's sheet and comforter from off of his legs.

" _I know_. But you didn't need to get up _right now_ , though. I thought that I was being quiet," she disputed. "You should try to go back to sleep, hon. I'll try to keep my bullshit as quiet as I can."

"No, it's alright, baby…" He unleashed a harsh exhale. "…I'm awake now," he groaned. He slipped his frame to the edge of the mattress.

"Are you sure?" she called out.

As soon as the soles of his feet touched the cold wooden floor, there was a pronounced cringe to his face. A chill swam along the length of his spine. Once the icy fingers of the central air stopped taunting him, he rolled his brawny shoulders thrice and then he lifted himself from off of the bed. A voracious yawn was unleashed from his mouth.

"I swear… You can wake up the goddamned dead with one of your yawns, Eric," she quipped as soon as he piped down.

" _Hardy-har-har-har_ ," he sarcastically spewed. A groan and a neck-pop later, his feet began their trek. " _What-in the-hell are you looking for, anyway_?" he croaked. He took note of the craggy baritone that was seeped into his tone.

"A bathing suit," she informed him as he was immersed in his self-assessment of his voice.

'— _A bathing suit_?! You're up at _six-in the-morning_ for a…'

" _Bathing suit?_ Babe… _It's six_ ," he groaned. His fingers reached up to his head and gave his scalp a good scratching. A memory came to the forefront of his mind. "I thought _you've already had one out_ ," he pointed out, with the memory of her previous search still fresh in his head.

" _I did_ …" Nasira informed him. "…But something told me to try it on, ever since I hadn't wore it in a long time. Good thing that I did follow my gut…" There was a mirthless but thoughtful giggle. "Good thing that _I did_ put it on." There was another giggle that was devoid of jovially emotion.

"What's wrong?" groaned Eric as he partially limped into the center of their bedroom.

"Ah, ummm… Let's just say that… If I _wore this particular swimsuit_ to the swim class today, then I'll be the talk of the city, in which it has nothing to do with me being married to you, for once," she answered.

 _'Huh?!_ ' he quietly grunted. His feet came to a slow stop as he began to question the message behind his wife's statement. Narrowed eyes, which was a part of a confused face, looked over at the well-lit doorway that led to the walk-in closet. " _What…?_ What's wrong your swimsuit?"

Seconds later, Eric's ears picked up the sounds of her footfalls as they fell upon the wooden, closet's floor. It began as muffled pairs and became louder, as well as, clearer as they traveled into the doorway's path.

'…What's going on with her, this morning? She had a bathing suit, just the other day. _I saw her_ with the bathing suit just the other day. Unless, I am going fucking crazy…' Eric's vision picked up a minute viewing of blurred, brown flesh as it was still in motion. '…and I am hallucinate— _Oh_ …'

Nasira sauntered to the closet's doorway and filled up the threshold with her glorious frame, showcasing herself for his viewing. A knowing smirk and an 'I told you so' expression marked her face. Her right hand grabbed a hold of a post that was a part of the doorframe while her left hand hid behind her jutting left hip. The cocky and provocative pose caused the outer curves to her generous bust to spill further out of the one-piece's top. "Now you see what I mean," she stated in a teasing manner.

Eric's cobalt-blue orbs slowly perused the curvaceous sight that was standing in front of him. As he ogled his wife, his mind began to imagine pleasantly, lascivious thoughts. He felt his prick twitch to life, in his boxer briefs. He, also, was re-considering the opinion that the red, lingerie number was his favorite outfit on her. This black, one-piece swimsuit should've been considered simple… _On any other woman_. But, according to Eric, Nasira's body thought otherwise. Every favorite body part of hers was on display, in this scrap of fabric. The high cuts of the legs caused her rounded hips to be exposed. The sliver of scrap that was supposed to serve as the crotch had barely covered her sex, but it did leave a crude imprint against the fabric. Her pair of heavy mounds were covered, but lacked the support that was needed. Eric imagined the kind of support that he wanted to give them as his dark gaze were aimed on them.

"I… _Cannot..._ Go to _Luke's swim class wearing_ this swimsuit," she told him with a light chuckle stitched to her statement. Her dark brown eyes peered down at her barely-covered bust. " _Can you imagine_?" There was a soft grunt. "I would be the 'Talk of the City' for months on end."

"You're right," he rasped. The tip of his tongue slithered out of his mouth and licked at his bottom lip. A lopsided smirk grew on his slightly full lips. "Take it off," he requested.

Nasira looked away from herself and fixed her husband with a disapproving glare. In her eyes, there was also a sense of acknowledgement towards his current state. Her eyes did a quick pan down his body before she stared into his eyes. " _No._ Eric," she declared as she jabbed the air with her left index finger. "We _cannot_ get into this, right now. I have to take our son to his swim class. We cannot fuc—

" _What did you just say to me_?" Eric slipped into his authoritative mode; the attitude that he carried, when he was around initiates and his colleagues. The semi-emotionless role that conjured fear or intimidation in other people. It was the attitude that also made Nasira weak in the knees and wet in between her legs. As he took a pair of steps into her direction, his eyes picked up the explosion of light that occurred in her eyes, as well as, the deep red blush in her throat and face. The corner of his lips ticked, in triumph.

"NNNNNNN- _No_ …" she stuttered as she continued to eye him.

'You can say 'no' all you want, baby. But that ass will be…'

"… _I know_ what you're doing, Eric," she accused him.

'…coming on my dick soon.'

"We can't start this up, now. As much as I like this 'Big and Bad' version of you, we cannot play _'Make the Angry Leader Happy'_ now," Nasira reminded him. "I have…" As she spoke, she detected her husband's movement. Her own feet proceeded to move, leading her away from him and deeper into the closet. "…to take Luke to his swim class and we have to leave here at ten! I have to get Luke up within an hour and make him breakfast and get him ready and—

"We have enough time," disputed Eric. "We'll be quick—

There was a snort and a chuckle made, in order to dispute his claim. "Yeah… _Riiight_!"

A gravelly and foreboding-sounding moan came from his throat. " _I can_ ," he reasoned. "Now… _Come here_ ," he seductively commanded.

Nasira lightly chuckled. " _Errr-ric_ … Now, _come on_! We cannot get into this, right now. _You know that_! We…" Her left foot struck a neglected shoe that was laying on the closet's floor. There was a stumble in her stride. She peeled her attention from off of Eric and she peeked at the floor.

It was in this moment in which Eric had found the advantage. Once she became distracted, the hunter pounced. His bare feet picked up its striding's pace. He speedily closed the gap that was in between the two of them. Out of primal instinct and without any reservations, his hands reached out and grabbed onto the most available flesh that was on display. As soon as those gathering fingers took a hold of firm muscle, the amorous husband picked Nasira up from off of the ground. Shrieks and laughter filled up his ears.

" _Err…Err…Err-ric_!" she shrieked into the air. "…We cannot—

Her own yelp managed to interrupt her half-assed pleas. She continued to screech as she was carried over his strong, left shoulder like she was a rolled-up rug.

Eric carried his shrieking and writhing wife across the master bedroom to their king-sized bed. With the finesse of a carpenter throwing a rug to the ground, he whipped Nasira from off of his shoulder and tossed her to the mattress. He kept his eyes on his wife as she reacted to the sudden descent. He watched her body bounce and react to the toss. His hands found their way to the elastic waistband of his underwear. He removed his boxers and kicked them away.

After the action settled, she uttered, "I… _Really… Really… Really hate you_ right now." Her playful declaration was capped off with a giggle.

"No, you don't," he disputed as he climbed onto the mattress. "You _love_ me," he told her as he scaled up to the center of the mattress, over her body.

" _I do_ ," she chuckled after she came face-to-face with him.

"No… You don't," Eric declared in a soft tone. "You… _Love._ Me," his lips spilled as his face descended, closing the gap between their lips. A flowing and sweet kiss came from the union. The tip of his nose traced the ridge of her refined, nose. "You love me, Nass," he stated in a whisper. His lips grazed her jawline's outline as he chanted, " _You love me. You love me. You love me. You love me. You love me. You love me_ …"

Eric managed to shut himself up, when his mouth descended on hers again. More soft and pleasant kisses were shared between them. He felt her smooth, callused fingers against his skin, when she applied caresses to his fur-lined cheeks and jaw. As their foreplay continued to drive up their arousal, his thick fingers caressed her thighs and scaling down to his desired destination. His hand persuaded his growing-pliable wife into spreading her legs apart and allowing him to slip in between them. Fingers slipped into the cleft that was formed between her thighs. The blunt and callused tips traced a journey with feather-light grazes against her cunt's puffy imprint against the cotton barrier. His hearing picked up a tremble in her inhales, milliseconds later. Encouraged, his touch took its ministrations into deeper territory, when his digits slipped underneath the crotch of her bathing suit. Fingers immediately became bathed in her wetness.

Lips broke apart. A few deep moans escaped from her parted lips. "Eric," she moaned against his mouth.

There was a throbbing deep in his member. A soft grunt followed, along with another reach for her lips. He decided to go on an exploration with his mouth. Starting his destination with a kiss to her chin, Eric kissed his way to her collarbone and to her plush mounds which were almost spilled out of her suit. His eager mouth latched onto the left bud that covered by the thin layer of cloth. As his mouth worked over her nipple, his right set of fingers slipped from her pussy and joined its twin for the task of pulling the suit's straps from off of her shoulders. Fingers snatched up the sewn border of the neckline and pulled the suit from off of her tits. His eyes zeroed in on the two mounds, which made his mouth water. With a groan of pleasure, he slipped her right nipple into his mouth as his left hand cupped onto the flesh. His taste buds were gifted with a strand of familiar sweetness. Another growl-like moan fell from his throat as he savored the taste of her milk. Fingers tightened their hold on her supple skin while his mouth sucked harder. His ears picked up the sounds of her whisper-like moans. Teeth lightly grazed the hardened surface of her nipple before they introduced themselves to the rest of her tit's flesh. He nipped at the skin before soothing the stinging with broad licks from his tongue. His tongue, then, licked a trail from her right breast, across the deep valley in between her chest and finally to her left breast, where he repeated his actions.

"—ric… _Fuck_ ," she lewdly moaned as she brought her bare legs to his waist, at one point. He felt her hands feverishly rubbed at his back and waist.

Once their mission was completed, his right fingers returned to her wet and hot sheath, where they began a steady pumping at her snatch. Her body reacted to every stroke with a quiver from both her womb and lower body. "… _Eric_ …" she mewled and kept moaning into the air. Her fingers reached for his long, wavy locks and sifted through the strands, silently encouraging his actions.

Eric gave her left tit a parting lick from his tongue before rising up. His full lips found their way back to her mouth. Smothered moans filled the bedroom as the skin on his lower back shivered. Once their mouths parted, he muttered, "Well… It _feels_ like you're in love with me" before falling into a snicker. To emphasize his point, the pad of his thumb slowly traced circles into the slickened nub that was her clit's surface. He witnessed the expression of pleasure deepened on her face. Her eyes clenched tighter. A deep cleft formed in between her brows and her jaw became slack. There was a wispy moan from her parted lips. Eric's probing fingers received a clench from her cunt's walls.

"…I…I-I-I…Still…St-Still hate you," she moaned. Her lips formed a soft smile before pursing and making mewls of pleasure.

A breathy snicker came from his smiling lips. " _You still hate me_ , huh?" he teased.

Her head feverishly nodded against the mattress.

Eric's mouth released a chuckle. His fingers' stroking decreased its speed, so he could scale down her writhing body. His left hand pawed at the neglected straps of her swimsuit. When he realized that his hand couldn't complete the task on its own, he slipped his right hand from her warmth and helped with the stripping. He swiftly forced the straps in helping peel off the black, one-piece. He climbed further down the mattress and came to her feet, where the swimsuit pooled into his hands. Once the piece of clothing was tossed over his left shoulder, it was immediately forgotten. His eyes instantly engrossed in the nude beauty that was laying before him. He took note that she still carried the mask of pleasure on her face. "Look at me," he ordered in a low tone. Once those dark brown orbs came into view, he lowered his head to her tatted-up abdomen.

"No…"

Suddenly, his forehead was resting on a warm palm.

"…not that," she panted.

He peered into her dark brown orbs. His sweating brow grew a frown. " _You don't want me to eat you out_?" he asked, feeling a bit surprise.

"No…" she breathed. She allowed a few rushed breaths to float into the air before speaking again. "You wanted a quickie and you're gonna get one. So, haul your sweet-looking ass up here, Coulter and let's get down to it," she ordered.

A gut-churning groan came from him. "Alright," he groaned with a hint of slyness. A slow and lazy, growl-like chuckle slithered out of his mouth. "If you say so, my darling," he spoke. He lowered his lips to her tattooed stomach and gave her navel a subtle suck. It was followed by a kiss to the perspired strip of skin that was in between her tits. His lips turned their talents to her left mound with a kiss to the underside of her breast. Teeth nipped at the heated skin and then formed a trail to the patch of plum-colored flesh. The tip of his tongue danced around the nipple, a tactic which rewarded the husband with a moan.

"Eric… Come on, now," she mewled.

Eric crawled up the rest of the length of her body. Once close, his body was a recipient of her hands' caresses. His ribs were subjected to her legs' grazes as they proceeded to cradle him. Then, there was the touch from her hand against the turgid stalk of his dick. It was a firm grip along the length that made his body seized up with pleasure. A deep arch took a hold of his strong back. A curt moan fell from his mouth. Eyes found the target for their heady gaze. He peeped her brown hand as performed another tantalizing pump to the reddened and hard flesh. A clumsy curse was spewed as a shudder ran through him. An unsteady glance landed on his wife's face just as his hips thrust against her stroking hand. "Come…Come on, baby," he gently stammered, as he felt her fingers wrap around the base of his prick.

The moment of when his cock's glans slipped pass her labia's fleshy barrier, his hips surged forward and caused his member to become sheath. Hot, slicked flesh welcomed his hard prick. The couple allowed loud groans to escape their joined bodies, which filled the bedroom with echoes. Feeling the nips from her wet channel, a burst of gratifying heat fanned his clammy flesh. A grimace crossed his handsome face. A husky moan escaped his gaping mouth. "—ah… _Fuc-uck!"_ he grunted.

Still swimming under the euphoric waves, he heard his wife's lusty requests. "…come on, Eric," she moaned. "Come on, baby." Her fingers clenched onto his lower back while her thighs squeezed his waist, a silent request and encouragement.

Lips reunited for another kiss as his hips reared back and then surged forward to make his cock pump out a slow and deep thrust to her eager cunt. Pleasure took a stronghold on his hardness, making his hips to perform a spastic thrust and his sac to clench. "Oh my God," he grunted against her lips. "Fuck, you're still tight for me," he muttered as his hips pulled back to perform another deep and sensual stroke for her.

He was filled with the desire to make this rut last; to make this pleasure linger throughout the day. He wanted to sear this moment into her brain, so that she would remember it throughout the day. With his body feeling taut and shivering from pleasure, Eric proceeded to fulfill his wife's carnal demand. His hips and prick steadily doled out deliberate strokes to her cunt. Pumps that wedged his member deep into her sheath. A resounding 'smacking' sound managed to slip from the site of their joining, floating into the atmosphere and birthing echoes along the walls. Fingertips remained in between their sweat-covered bodies, on her clit and massaging the knot with rubs and slaps against the surface.

"… _Err-ric_ … _Oh God… Got… damn it…_ " she sputtered out, in between a stream of groans.

His lips found hers as her hands cupped onto his contracting ass.

'She's… About…' He knew that she was about to come all over him. A stirring groan left his busy mouth.

Eric peered down their bodies to the union. He watched his slicked shaft appear and then disappear into her pink folds, as he pumped. He glanced his right fingers as they frantically rubbed at her pussy lips and protruding clitoris. He lifted his probing fingertips from her clit and planted his palm on the firm mattress. His hips came to a halt. He quickly shifted to his knees with his cock still buried deep in her snatch.

Her moaning simmered down into pants. "W-What?" she lightly moaned.

Eric glowered at her tits as they heaved along with the rhythm of her exerted breaths. He made a grab for the underside of her right thigh and then guided the limb to his torso, pinning it there with his left hand. The right hand clamped down on her left hip. He subjected her inflamed cunt with his groin's affections by proceeding to grind up against the sensitive flesh. His hearing picked up a sharp, throaty squeal from her. Meanwhile, her pussy clamped down on his prick with vigor, which spurred a guttural moan from him.

"I… _Oh God_ …I hate you. I… _Fucking. Hate you_ ," she moaned, after a wave of squeaks and squeals.

A sluggish snicker left his curved lips, in response. The grip in his right hand tightened as his hips retracted, making his cock slide from the warm pocket that it was residing inside of. Blue eyes panned down at the position of their joining and he viewed his prick's slow expulsion from her spread, slicked petals. The sodden knot of flesh, his glans, found interest in the seam that was in between her puffy, bare lips. The cap traced the crease before butting up against her clit.

"…Eric…" she spewed into the air before dissolving into a stream of whimpers and groans.

His right hand released her hip and grabbed his cock's base. The gripping fingers steered his member onto a playful path, making his glans leisurely rub against her mons Venus. Throbs of pleasure nipped at his prick, making his eyelids flutter and his bottom lip to be caught in between both rows of teeth. Eyes peered at his wife's grimacing face. "Play with your pussy for me," he ordered, in a hoarse tone. His hardness pulled away from her heated sex. He listened to the keening mewl that came from her lips as he watched her right index, middle and ring fingers furiously rub at her sex, obeying his command. The prick's crown found itself at the ingress of her cunt. Hips sluggishly drove forward and causing his dick to make a slow, but deep plunge into her gash. His right hand made a desperate grab for her left hipbone. Fingers gripped tightly as his hips made the initial curt snap forward, causing his sex to be fully embraced by her wetness. Eyes peered down at her glistening tits and continued to stare at them as his cock made another sharp thrust. His eyes widened with delight as they watched her mounds bounce upon his groin's impact. He sustained with the act as his cock continued to pump into Nasira's hot channel.

Dark brown eyes formed a half-mast glare at him. "I really… F-Fuckin' hate…You," she moaned, after some time passed. Her fingernails dug into the flesh that covered his wrists. Her eyelids fluttered and her plump lips snarled while a breathy moan filled the room. "I'm coming," she whimpered. The back of her head made a clumsy flop onto the mattress. Her head lazily lolled. "I'm coming," she moaned. A few shuddering breaths escaped her mouth. "Oh God… Oh God…," she sputtered. Her mouth continued to spit out more sounds of pleasure as her hands explored his driving body. Her left hand settled for his tatted-up right forearm while her right hand found settlement with his left hip, as well as, his ass.

As his prick plunged into her willing snatch, Eric's left hand released its hold on her right thigh and allowed the thick limb to slip away. He brought his upper body down on her writhing form. "You… Love me," he moaned to her lips. The tip of his tongue flicked her bottom lip. "You love me," he repeated. His fingers dug into the thick comforter that was spread underneath them before his hips performed steady streak of strong, deep strokes to her juddering walls. His lips were the recipient to her rampant whimpers and moans.

Like clockwork, as his hardness rode the climatic flutters that came from her cunt, his own lust-driven body began to feel the tingles from an impending orgasm. His nuts began to compress and ascend up to his body. The muscles that lined his calves and abdomen began to seized up and become taut, bracing for the eruption that was sure to come. A deep blush filled his already-ruddy flesh. Harsh, rushed pants escaped his gaping mouth and flaring nostrils. With a loud, whining moan from his mouth, his cock spasm in her womb, spilling his first rope of seed. Fingers curled around the thick blanket while his mouth latched onto the perspiring slope of her neck, in order to brace for the currents that were ready to erupt.

"That's it, baby," Eric heard Nasira coo into his ear. "That's it, baby… That's it. Come in me," she moaned. "Come in me."

Unfiltered and coarse moans bathed her neck as he rode the fervent waves of his unraveling. Unspoken, declarations of love were playing in his head while colored lights exploded beneath his eyelids. A vulnerable, gentle moan fell from him as the fissures from his last climatic wave receded, leaving the husband feeling weak and sated. Mindlessly, Eric's body crashed onto Nasira's willing form. His shoulders were immediately welcomed by her arms, in which they received a hearty yet limp embrace. His head came to rest on her bountiful chest. He picked up the sounds of her pounding heartbeats while feeling his own racing heart slam up against his chest.

"Don't you dare go to sleep on me, Eric," he heard, seconds later. There was a muffled and short chuckle.

A cocky, but goofy smile appeared on his lips. His eyes opened to half-mast and he absently peered at the wall that was facing Nasira's side of the bed. "That's what I was plan on doing, too," he slurred, a sign that he was about to fall into slumber's clutches. Weakly, he lifted his head from off of her right breast to give her collarbone a kiss. Then, he returned to his resting spot.

"Don't you dare," she chuckled. "I have to take our baby to his very first swim class," she reminded him.

"I know… I haven't forgotten…" A thick groan escaped him. His hands lazily traced the curves of her warm body, providing soft caresses to her skin. "…But you feel so good… In more ways than one."

She delicately giggled. Meanwhile, her cunt unleashed an appreciative grip on his dick.

In response, his hips rocked against her sex. "Stop that," he moaned. "Unless you want to forget about those swim classes."

A smug, "Hmph!" came from Nasira as her hands began to caress his shoulders. "So…How's work coming along?" she asked, a moment later. "I take it that you guys found something wrong… You came home late, last night, which is a first for you... In a while."

'One-thirty, to be precise,' he secretly confessed. Eric then sighed, which turned out to be a low-powered yawn. His mind ran through a brief synopsis of the previous day. "Meetings," he slurred. "Nothing to worry about, Nass." He felt her fingers leave his shoulders and slipped through his shoulder-length locks. Fingertips found their way to his scalp, where they doled out massaging swipes that caused rippling pleasure. His mouth unleashed a rumbling growl of content.

"I'm not worried, babe," she declared. Her fingers continued to soothe him into mind-numbing contentment. "Your hair…" she murmured, minutes later. Her fingers had taken up the task of halfway inspecting his dark blond curls.

"What about it?" he slurred into her bicep.

"…It's getting _too long_ ," she clarified. "You're starting to look like you can play the banjo, darling," she quipped. Both parents unleashed streams of snickers.

"If I decide to cut it, then will you do it?" he asked.

" _Sure_ ," she sighed. "Why do you want _me_ to do it?" she inquired, a few seconds later.

"Just because," he moaned. Then, silence had entered the bedroom once again. It was Eric, who disrupted the tranquil flow. "Let's go out tonight," he suddenly piped up with.

"Out? _Tonight_? With the kids? Or, _just us_?" she murmured, making her own case of sleepiness evident.

"Just the two of us," he clarified. His ears picked up the sound of her yawn. "We haven't had a… _Date night_ in like… What? Seven… _Eight months_?"

"Mmmmm…Yeee-yeah," she said dreamily. Her hands returned to his broad shoulders and back, where her fingers caressed. "It was before the boys were born. We… We had gone to Amity, remember?" Then, in a whisper, she uttered, "I miss those times. I… _Miss you, baby_."

A warmth filled his cheeks while fluttering had filled his gut. Guilt began to fill his soul just like the stinging sensation rubbed at his eyeballs. He snapped his eyes shut. A grimace graced his face. "I know. I know…" he groaned. "… I know."

"So does Zee and Luke," she informed him. "Luke… Luke is more understanding. I tell him that you're working and he'll simply say that he'll wait until you're not busy. _But… Miss Zee-Zee_?" Nasira chuckled. "Little Miss Thing… She lets me know about _her displeasure_ with your absences, whenever she can," she informed her husband.

Eric's brow crumpled as his eyes snapped open. 'Wait… Has she—

His head snapped up. Narrowed eyes aimed their discerning glare down on his wife's face. "She hasn't been _smart-mouthing_ you, has she?" he groaned.

A hand ran through his hair. Her head gently shook. "No," she mouthed. "No, she hasn't, baby," she expounded. "I said, ' _whenever she can_ '. Your _special girl_ is sassy, at times, but _she's_ smart. She knows when to try it with me."

He gently nodded his head. "Oh… Okay," he murmured before slipping back into his resting position. "I thought… I thought that I needed to have a little talk with her today while you are gone."

Nasira softly chortled. "Oh no, honey. You don't need to go that far. The last thing I need is for our baby to be is traumatized. Do you remember what happens every time you discipline her?" She lightly chuckled. "The child acts like you tell her that you don't want to be her daddy anymore. Just…" She wistfully giggled. "… _Hootin' and hollerin'_ all over the place… My poor baby." There was a soft moan of contentment. "But I give you credit, Err… You don't budge, baby. You discipline and you don't go back on your punishments. Unlike, my brothers with their kids…" She groaned, "… _Oh God_."

"I think she is still mad at me," he confessed. "For going back to work as a leader."

"She just misses her daddy, that's all," added Nasira. "After all, you were there for her since ' _Day One'._ From the time that she was born and onward. Plus, _you spoiled her_ —

"I. Did. Not," he disputed.

Nasira chuckled. She gave his shoulders an affectionate rub. "She's… _Just a little irritated_ by the change of things. _That's all_. Give her a few weeks. _Plus_ … She's starting to warm up to Hexa and Rogue and their boys..." she cooed. "Just last night, she was amped up and excited about being able to ride in ' _Hexa's big truck'_ someday—

"She's not going to ride in that demon," declared Eric, into her arm. In his mind, there was the notion of his daughter choosing to stay in Dauntless, only to drive a glorified garbage truck and take it outside of the walls. "The last thing that I want her to be is an _Iron Ram_. I would rather for her to be _a gear-head_ …"

"Oh God," she lowly groaned.

"… _than to go outside of the walls to dump trash_ ," he pointed out.

"At least, she'll be in Dauntless," jibed Nasira, a split-second later. After receiving a firm slap on the outside of her right thigh from his once-caressing hand, she erupted into a fit of laughter.

Stillness and peace filled up the master bedroom once more. The only sounds that came from the lovers were their trails of even breathing. The sounds of traffic and random, faint passersby's chattering swam through the private quarters' atmosphere.

During the swell of this period, this silence from their intimate moment, deep sigh was expelled from his nostrils. "Mmmm…" he contentedly hummed. He tried to fight off the sleepiness, but after performing a few eyelid flutters, they slowly closed. The weight became too heavy for his eyelids. An invisible blanket of warmth covered his naked flesh as a downpour of numbness filled his head. Nonsensical imagery began to run through his mind, distracting his fading consciousness and pulling him into the black—

 _"_ _Maammmm_!"

Lucien's sudden shouting into the corridor, outside of their bedroom door, provided Eric with the right dose of adrenaline. His body performed a strong jerk against Nasira as his eyes snapped open, wide and wild-eyed.

 _"_ _Maammmm!"_ their son called out again.

Eric, then, felt a series of soft patting against his left shoulder. It was the sign that their latest intimate moment had come to an end. He released a gruff exhale while his sense of disappointment filled his spirit.

 _"_ _Maammmm!"_ The obnoxious call was followed by the sounds of rushing footsteps against the hallway's carpeted floor. The trail of sounds were becoming louder in volume as they approached the parents' bedroom.

"Err—

"Yeah-yeah-yeah," he groaned. Eric's right hand slipped in between their bodies and grabbed a hold of his prick. He freed his member from her heavenly grasp. Then, with the finesse of a lazy man, he rolled off of his wife's pleased form and landed on the empty side of the bed. He rolled onto his belly and buried his face into the soft, cool comforter. In this resting pose, the sated and tired husband listened out for his wife as she toiled about the bedroom. His son's exuberant calls and heavy footfalls remained consistent, on the other side of the door. Suddenly, there was the sudden touch of cloth on his lower back and ass.

"I advise you to slip those on, sir, before I open this door," Nasira warned.

With a grunt stitched to his lips, his right hand reached behind his back. His fingers snatched up his once-disregarded underwear. Then, he proceeded to lift up from the mattress and slip his boxer-briefs on.

"… _Maaammmm! Maaammmm! Maaammmm! Ma—"_

Luke's call was interrupted by a series of hasty knocks to the bedroom's closed door.

"Maaammmm! Maaammmm! Mama! Mama, are you up already?! Today's my swim day!" the excited boy announced from the other side of the door.

Nasira, now shrouded in a robe, stared at the door and then at her husband. A smile approached her face. "Are you sure that you don't want to spend the day with your son, teaching him how to swim? It's going to be oodles of non-stop fun!" she jokingly queried, in a gentle tone that Eric could only hear.

A now-covered, Eric chuckled as he sat on the edge of the mattress, at the foot of the bed. His slightly-reddened eyes stared at his wife. "Are you sure _you want that_ , Mama?" A sly smile appeared. "Me… In _swim trunks and s_ urrounded by numerous women? Do you remember _the last time_ that I was around the mothers from one of Luke's classes?" As he spoke, he could see Nasira's eyes gloss over as she recalled the exact event.

Her brow developed a deep crease and her lips formed a thin line. Dark brown eyes became sharp again and peered at him. "Never mind," she groaned.

"…Mama! Are you up?!"Lucien called out.

"Y-Yes," Nasira called out to the door, croaking. She took note of the ruggedness that lurked in her voice. Her fingers touched at her throat.

"It's from all of that screaming," he snickered. He was gifted with a disapproving glower from his wife as she coughed the cragginess from her throat. It boosted up his humorous mood.

With the soundtrack of his laughter, she unlocked the door. She gave Eric a glimpse before her hand twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. Before her hand could create a wide berth between the door and the frame, Lucien pushed the door open and ran into the room. Chuckling, he ran over to his father, who still sat at the foot of the bed. Without hesitation, the rambunctious boy ran into his father's personal bubble and into the space that was in between his father's knees. He collided into Eric's chest and erupted into more giggles. He wrapped his arms around his father's waist while the older Eric's left arm was casually wrapped around the younger's shoulders. "Mornin', Pops," the child chirped.

Eric stared down at his eldest son and gifted him with a lukewarm frown. "And what about your mother, Luke?" he chastised.

The child looked over to his mother, who was carrying a frown on her face. Lucien giggled. "I'm sorry, Mama… Good morning!" He broke out in another round of chuckles, when her face broke out into a toothy smile. He received an affectionate rub at his head from his father's hand.

"Good morning, Kid," Eric greeted his son. "Did you sleep good last night? No nightmares? Nothing?"

Lucien nodded his head to every one of his father's questions. "How did you sleep, Pops?" he asked, in return.

"I slept well, Luke," Eric lied. His fingers reached down and gave his son's nose a light pinch. Both father and son laughed. "Are you excited about learning how to swim, today?"

Lucien excitedly nodded his head. "And, we're going to be learning how to swim in an _actual pool_!" His dark gray eyes focused on his mother. "Ain't that right, Mama?"

Nasira nodded her head. "Yes, that's true, baby."

"Mama… Can dad— _Pops_ —make breakfast today?" the child requested with a pleading glare tossed in his mother's direction.

Brown eyes stared at Eric. "If it's alright with your dad, then it is okay with me," she informed their son.

Eric stared down at the boy. "Yeah… It's alright with me… But, I'm not feeding you any pancakes, though." Once he saw the look of surprise and then the expression of disappointment on Lucien's face, he further explained. "You're going swimming today, Kid. You're going to need to eat something light before you go."

" _Why_?" the boy cheeped. "Am I goin' to sink to the bottom because I'll be… _soooooo heavy_?" Both parents lightly laughed.

"No, Luke. You won't sink to the bottom of the pool. You shouldn't eat anything heavy… _Like the pancakes_ … Because you'll get a stomach ache, once you start learn how to swim," the father informed the child. He gave the boy an expectant look. " _Okay_?"

" _Ohhhh-kay_ ," groaned Luke. "Can I have some toast and eggs instead?"

"Alright, that's good enough," he informed his son.

Lucien awarded his father with a smile. He gave his mother the same grin. Then he trotted out of the bedroom. Seconds later, there was an "I'll be downstairs!" from the hallway.

Eric made sure that his son was out-of-earshot before he strolled over to his wife, who stood in the doorway. He watched his wife give his body a slow inventory with her eyes.

" _Mmm_ …" she hummed with her lips pursed. "I see that you're sporting a limp there, daddy. Where did that come from? Its looks pretty… _Worn in_. So, you can't blame me for that."

A lopsided grin appeared and he unleashed an easy chortle. "You know where…" His hands sought after her small waist. "…You give me the best workouts, baby…" Eric pulled his wife into his personal space. His face settled into that safe cove, which was her neck's curve. "…you know that you can work me out better than any of the training room's exercises," he complimented her. His nose took in the scent that came from her heated skin. Then the tip of his nose traced the deep swoop in her neck.

A smoldering chuckle came from her. "I advise you, sir, to not take it any further," she sweetly warned. "Your _'Little Me'_ is waiting for you downstairs and I have to take a shower and get ready."

Eric sniggered. "I thought that my ' _Little Me_ ' was…" He pressed his burgeoning erection against her right hip. "…getting—

Nasira squealed and then gave his left shoulder a playful slap. " _That's not nice_!" she giggled as she struck him. "And besides… _That's_ not _little_!"

He took a few steps away from her and headed into the direction of their closet, snickering all the way.

She stared at him along the way. "Hurry up and get dressed! So you can go downstairs and feed our boy, _Pa_!" she called after him.

"Alright, _Ma_." He limped his way to the closet's entrance. Before he passed through the threshold, he paused. He glanced over his right shoulder at his wife. "Keep that bathing suit," he requested.

" _Oh yeah_?" she chirped with a toothy smile and her eyes bright with surprise. She was in the midst of strolling to the foot of their canopy bed. " _So, you like that one, huh?_ "

"Yeah," she confessed with a smile. Eric took a few steps away from her. "It might be better than the red number that you have," he told her before making his departure from the bedroom. As he walked into the closet, he listened to the waves of laughter.

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

"Alright, Eric…" Nasira grabbed onto the ceramic bowl that was poised in front of Lucien. She glimpsed at the child. "You're done with this, baby?" she queried to the boy.

Lucien nodded his head. "Yes, Mama."

She picked up the bowl and proceeded to travel to the sink. "Eric?" she called out from over her left shoulder.

"Yeah?" the faction leader responded with as he continued to stare at his tablet's screen, from the sectional's location.

"There's…" She paused, so she could lick a bit of butter from Luke's cold breakfast, off of her right thumb. "…some oatmeal on the stove, for Zee-Zee, when she wakes up." She proceeded to wash the dishes that were inside of the sink.

"Gotcha, babe," he muttered. He gave the report that was on the tablet a final look before he tossed the device on the couch. He walked over to the counter island and stood behind his son. Eric noted that Luke's small shoulders immediately hunched up. He lightly chuckled. His right hand came to a rest on his son's head. "I ain't going to tickle you," he informed the boy. Lucien giggled. The perched hand proceeded to dole out soothing caresses across the soft coils that graced his son's scalp. He didn't have to view Lucien's face to know that there was a smile on his face. 'Still the same… Still loves the head rubs,' he quietly assessed. "Luke?"

"Yeah, Pops?" the boy called out. His voice had taken on a sleepy tone, a prominent sign that the caresses were taking effect.

"While you're with your mother, I want you to be on your best behavior. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," the child uttered.

"Also, I don't want you to play around, when you're around _that pool_ , okay? That means: _No running around. Do not go into the pool, if your mom doesn't tell you to go in…_ You understand?"

Lucien nodded. "Yes, sir… Because that means that I can trip and… Fall into the pool and drown… _Right_?"

The notion that his son could die from a simple case of carelessness, made his chest constrict. His stomach gurgled with distaste. He peeped the field of cropped curls that were on his head. "Yeah… That's right, Luke."

"But that's…"

Eric looked at Nasira. She was now standing in front of the sink with her lower back pressed at the counter's edge. She was staring at her husband and their son. He spotted the glaze that were in her eyes. It was the same look that he was sporting.

"…not going to happen, baby," she reported to every one of them. A tight-lipped smile appeared on her face. "And that's because we are going to follow the rules. _Aren't we_?"

Luke nodded his head. "Yes, Mama. I will follow the rules."

Eric's fingers gave their son's scalp a friendly scratching. "That's good, Luke. I'm counting on you, Kid."

"Yes, Pops," chirped Lucien. He looked over his right shoulder at the towering man that was standing behind him. He flashed his father a smile.

"Alright, it's time for us to go," announced Nasira, a moment later.

Eric stepped away from Lucien and then he helped the boy climb down from his stool. He watched the boy make an impromptu grab for a red, hardcover book that was on the countertop. He thought that the book was rather large for the child to be reading.

Lucien noticed his father's interest in his story book. "Pops… _It's a storybook!"_ the child chirped. He turned the hardcover book in his small hands, so that the front cover would face his father's observing gaze. "Auntie Trudy gave it to me! She said that it will help me learn how to read. _It talks and everything_!" He turned the large book around in his hands, using his knee to help him. He flipped the cover up. Suddenly, the kitchen area was filled with the sound of a mechanical voice. Lucien glanced at his father. " _See_?!" he told him with a smile. "It's for the car ride."

" _Oh yeah?_ " uttered a genuinely interested, Eric.

"Yeah, Da—Pops," the child told him.

As he converse with Lucien, he caught a glimpse of Nasira as she was about to pick up a large, black duffel bag from off of the living room's floor. " _No-no-no-no…"_ he muttered. His socked feet performed a trail of rapid steps into her direction. " _I_ got this," he told her as he approached. Once he was close enough, his right hand reached down and grabbed the handles to the bag.

" _Err-ric_ ," she groaned, issuing a protest. Despite it, she allowed her husband to pick up her duffel bag.

"You're not going to carry anything—

"Not when you're always around," she sarcastically grumbled, filling in his statement. She rolled her eyes and then smiled. "Thank you, baby," she mouthed.

His left hand reached out and made a benevolent grab at the back of her neck. He slipped into her personal space and initiated a kiss.

" _Ewww_ … Get a room!"

Both parents broke apart and glanced at their son, who was still standing in front of them. He was glaring at the two of them with a grimace on his face. His large, red book were in his embrace and close to his chest.

'More and more… He's starting to sound like that red-headed, little stump,' he concluded, thinking about Hexa, his sister-in-law.

"I see that he's picking up Hexa's habits," he heard his wife mutter.

Eric just grinned while their son giggled. "Come on, Mama!" Lucien squealed. "We're going to be late!" he announced. He turned away and ran to the front door. With his book still in his grasp, he was able to open the door and run out of the apartment.

"Someone's excited," Nasira mused.

"Nah…" Eric disagreed with pursed lips. "…I don't think it has to do with the swim class…" He looked at her. "…He's happy that he gets to spend the day with his _mommy_ and he has you all to himself, for the day."

" _Really? You think so?_ " she said to him.

" _Yeah_ … Since you brought the boys home, I think he's feeling the effects of being a big brother. We have been giving him some independence. Well, _you_ , mostly. I think he misses being ' _babied_ '. Just a little bit," Eric guessed.

" _Really?_ " she repeated. She glimpsed at the door. "I've never thought of that." She looked at him. "Has he said anything to you?"

"No," he answered with a shake of his head. "But, I can see it," he told her. His lips gave her forehead a kiss. "So, I advise you to enjoy your day with your son, Mama. In fact… After the class, take him down to the renovated part of the Piers. I think they've finished with the carousel and it's up and running… The Kid would love it," he suggested. "Take him to the carousel, then take him down to The Pit and get him something to eat, afterwards."

" _Are you sure_?" said an unsure Nasira. "I mean… I would _love_ to take Luke down to the Piers and do everything that you've mentioned, today. But… That means that I will be leaving you here… By yourself… _For the whooolllle day…_ With the twins _…. Annnnddd…_ With Zola. So, you'll be here with three kids… Once again… _Are you sure_?"

Eric tossed his wife a look of feigned offense.

Nasira laughed. " _Baby_ … _You know what I mean!_ Two babies and one toddler can be a hand—

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" he playfully protested. There was another kiss to her forehead. " _I. Got. This_ … Alright? Or have you've forgotten that I was taking care of two kids, not too long ago?"

"This is… _Different_ , Eric. It's not just two kids, now. We're talking about six-month-old _twins_ ," she rebutted.

Eric chortled. "Don't worry. If I feel like I need help, then I will call up one of the girls. Or, I'll walk across the hall and ask Nicole for help. I'm sure that she'll watch Zee for an hour because of Jo-Jo. Then, it'll be the boys and me, which would be a breeze ever since they just poop, eat and sleep," he informed her. "So… Don't worry about me. Go and have fun with… _'Chunky Butt'!_ "

She giggled. " _Chunky Butt_ … I haven't called him that, in _a long time_ ," she claimed, in between giggles. The laughter came to an abrupt end, when his lips crashed into hers, for a kiss. As soon as they parted, she decided to begin her trip.

"Do you want me to carry the bag to the—

"No, _daddy_ , I have it," she informed him as she strolled to the opened, front door. "You said that the truck was parked in front of the building, so I won't be making a journey to it… Besides, the twins and Zee are still in here." She came to a halt, when she arrived to the threshold. She turned to him. "I'll be straight, making it to the truck…" Her right hand reached for the bag. "… _Now_ … If you do need me to come back after the swim class—

" _I won't,_ " Eric interjected. His left set of fingertips lightly caressed the skin that was on the back of her neck. With conviction in his cobalt orbs, he stated, "I got everything. Don't worry, baby".

A smile briefly touched her lips before they ended up touching his, to form a kiss.

Before their pecking could take on higher heights, he backed away. "You gotta go," his voice croaked out. His lips formed a smile. "You gotta go," he repeated.

A mischievous smile took over her lips. " _Later_ ," she informed him. Her plump lips kissed his left cheek. Then she dragged them over to his ear. "Later… When the kids are asleep for the night… I'll rub out those kinks for you," she revealed to him.

Eric's brain was gifted with several, imagined scenes that could be best described as pornographic. A low, animal-like growl slipped from him. Narrowed eyes peeped the shoulder of the woman that he currently embraced in his arms.

"I'm so glad that you like the idea," she giggled into his ear.

A gentle touch was given to his right hand. Her fingers asked for the leather handles that were attached to the duffel bag. He relinquished his hold on the bag's handles. Once her fingers gained control, she stepped away from Eric and out of his embrace. He gazed at his departing wife. "Have fun, baby."

"I will," she declared. "I hope that you have fun, too."

"I am…" he reported as he stepped into the apartment. "…and I am going to have a helluvah lot of fun _tonight_ , too!"

Nasira unleashed a husky laugh. Her sneaker-clad feet made a few more backward steps before whipped around.

Eric watched his wife strut down the corridor the long hallway. His eyes picked up the sight of her chosen outfit for the day. She decided to hijack his old black jacket from his initiate years, so it would go along with a pair of denim shorts and a tank top. He noticed just how much leg that she was showcasing today. He was ogling the glossy, long stems when he decided to speak up. "Hey!" he called out.

The sparkly-red sneakers came to a smooth halt. Both pairs of eyes settled on each other.

"Yes, babe?" the legs' owner stated.

"You looking good today!" he told her. A smile tugged at his lips. "Don't kill them too much while you're out there!"

She giggled. "I promise that I won't. But I really can't guarantee anything," she joked.

Eric chuckled. Then he ogled her strutting form as she traveled down the corridor. He kept his steady gaze on her until she made a smooth left turn into the hallway that he knew would lead to the elevator bay. When the hallway became empty, his feet took a few steps into the apartment.

" _Pssshhh_!"

He popped his head out of the apartment and into the hallway. The call had come from the same direction that Nasira just took. Blue eyes focused down the hallway and they came across the spectacle of his wife's floating head. It appeared right along the edge of the second hallway's entrance. She was staring directly at him.

"Love you," she said softly. The declaration was followed by a set of blown kisses.

"I love you, too," he called out.

She smiled in response and then tucked her head back into the other hallway. Then both hallways filled with the sounds of her rubber-soled shoes trekking across the floor. It was then, when Eric stepped back into the apartment and shut the door. Once inside, he had taken a survey of the living room and the kitchen as his brain ran through a list of possible, household-related tasks that needed to be fulfilled. After realizing that there weren't any chores that immediately needed to be filled, he huffed a breath of relief.

'I might as well take a quick shower and then a nap,' he concluded as he strolled across the living room, to the staircase. Both hands ran a rough caress down his face. 'I definitely need some sleep.' But he wanted to check up on the sleeping children, first.

The Dauntless papa first checked up Augustus and Zephyr. He entered the first bedroom that was on the left side of the hallway, on the second floor. He entered the nursery with gentle footfalls, which led to the crib that was across the room. Once close enough, he peeped over the crib's railing and stared at the identical twins, who were still sleeping. He listened to the soft snores that sailed from their tiny noses. A hand reached into the crib. He gave each child a belly rub. 'My boys,' his brain affectionately grunted. There was a final glimpse at the twins before he made his exit.

Eric, then, took his travel to the bedroom that was directly across from the nursery. After slowly and carefully opening the moth-themed bedroom door, he entered Zola's room. Before he could fully enter the bedroom, he spotted his sleeping daughter. A snort and a snicker fell from his mouth as he spied the sleeping child's current position. _'What-the-hell_ …' Still laughing, he made his way over to the foot of his daughter's iron daybed. He observed Zola's kneeling form. Her tiny hands were serving as a pillow for her head, as it rested on the mattress. Her burnt-orange-colored curls were spread across the bed like a fan. Unlike her younger brothers, loud and boorish snores escaped her resting form. 'Definitely, her mother's child.' He fell into a squatting pose. "My baby," he snickered. Then he began to pick her up and return her to the bed. Afterwards, he placed her blanket over her pliant form. His fingers brushed her hair from her face. With a laugh still floating from his mouth, he made his exit from out of the bedroom.

Once in the hallway, he stared at the entrance to the master bedroom. A flash of their king-sized bed entered his mind, causing the sleep-deprived man to shiver from pure pleasure."Sleep," he deeply sighed. He turned his body into the bedroom's direction and ensued with his travel. As soon as he stepped forth and entered his room, he was swamped with the feeling of fatigue. An invisible, blanket of weight hung from his shoulders, back and arms. Meanwhile, his eyes developed a stinging that only a few hours of slumber could wipe clean. Slow and choppy steps were made as he trekked to the foot of his bed. With the eager decorum that was usually attached to children, Eric climbed onto the edge of the large bed. Massive hands automatically sank deep into the cool and thick, feather-downed comforter as they scaled the surface. Eyes scoped out the family of thick pillows that rested a foot away and against the headboard of their canopy bed frame.

'Just... Please... Please... Just three hours of sleep,' he silently prayed. 'Just thra-

 ** _"_** ** _BAHBLAAAAMMMM!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _BAHBLAAAAMMMM! BAHBLAAAAMMM-BLAAM-BLAAM-BLAAM!"_**

The sudden sonorous and booming sounds penetrated the bedroom's atmosphere, disrupting the tranquil feel.

' _Gunshots_!'

Eric's body seized up and froze, leaving him in the crawling position as his instinct yelled out the origin behind the abrupt sounds. Then his ringing ears picked up the faint sounds of pedestrians screaming, outside of the apartment building.

' _Do… Something! Leader… Leader…'_

Widened eyes peered at the window that was behind their bed's headboard.

'… _Leader—_ you're an officer! Investigate!' his instinct yelled at him. He looked at the foot of his bed and then he turned his head to—

 ** _"_** ** _BAHBLAAAAMMM!"_**

The faction leader's body jerked out of minute fright as the gunshot's noise erupted. He looked at the window again.

 ** _"_** ** _BAHBLAAAAMMMM! BAHBLAAAAMMMM-BLAAM-BLAAM-BLAAM-BLAAM!"_**

There were more signs of gun violence occurring outside.

 ** _"_** ** _BAHBLAAAAMMMM! BAHBLAAAAMMM-BLAAM-BLAAM-BLAAM!"_**

It was followed by more ringing inside of Eric's ears. His logic was able to fight through the fright-fueled fog that numbed his consciousness. He was able to conclude that the shooting was close by. Extremely close by, for the sounds to be so booming.

The latest streak of shots were followed by the muted screams and shouting.

 ** _"_** ** _OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE CALL DAUNTLESS P.D.!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _OHHHH MY GOD!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _CALL THE COPS! SOMEONE CALL THE FUCKIN' COPS, NOW!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE CALL THE COPS!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE'S BEEN SHOT!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE GET HELP FOR HER!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _SOMEONE'S BEEN HURT! CALL THE COPS, MAN!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _GET THAT FUCKIN'—_**

 ** _"_** ** _IS THERE A DOCTOR OR A MEDIC AROUND HERE?! PLEASE HELP!"_**

"Daaa-deeeee!"

'Zola!' his brain called out. Hearing his daughter's frantic and scared voice snapped the father from out of his spell. Frantic hands and feet helped his body crawl off of the bed. Eric ran out of his bedroom and into the second-floor hallway. His eyes picked the sight of his scared daughter as she ran towards him.

"Daaa-deeeee!" she screamed at him with her tear-soaked eyes wide and staring at him.

"Zee!" he shouted down the hallway.

The hallway began to fill up with the sounds of the infant boys' shrieking and crying.

"Daaa-deee!" Zola screamed as she ran to Eric.

As soon as he was close, his hands desperately grabbed at his four-year-old daughter. He swiftly gathered her up in his arms. Wide and wild eyes surveyed his child while his hand searched for signs of injury on her.

"Daaa-deee!" the girl sobbed.

Once he realized that she wasn't shot or physically harmed, he placed a fierce hug on her. Paled lips applied a family of grateful kisses to her forehead. "It's okay, Zee," he whispered into a small cloud of curls. "It's okay, baby, everything is fine." He kissed her temple. "Its fine, Zee. You're fine. I'm fine…" He continued to rain assurances down on his child.

A high-pitched shriek slashed the air and wedged itself into Eric's consciousness. 'The boys…' He stared at the nursery's door. His right hand frantically pat on Zola's back. "Zee, baby…" He turned his face to his weeping daughter. "…Zee, I'm—we're going to Auggie and Fear's room, okay? We're going to go to the boys' room, okay." The girl didn't respond or react to her father's statement. She still wept into his neck.

Understanding the hysterical nature that she was enduring at the moment, Eric whispered the best comforting words that his frazzled mind could think of. He spoke those soft and kind words as he carried her into the twins' bedroom. His sense of anxiety heightened, upon entering the nursery as his ears were assaulted by the dual sounds of wails and shrieks from the boys. Both pairs of dark brown eyes focused on the two new visitors that were inside of the bedroom. The frightened father strolled over to the crib, where the boys were now sitting in, with the help of their firm grips on pairs of spokes in the railing. Eric eyed the reddened faces that were glistening with spilled tears. He took note of the frightening flinches that were emitted from their tiny forms as they sobbed.

The ardent cries and his fear for his children's safety began to gain the attention of the lurking beast that rested in the back of Eric's mind. "Okay…" he breathed as he eyed all three children with feverish glimpses. His heart was rapidly racing in his chest, making it feel like it was going to break through the breastplate. "…okay…" His lips placed a chaste kiss on Zola's temple before his left hand reached into the crib. "..Okay. Okay…" he muttered, just as his left set of fingers began to be pulled on my tiny, wet hands. "…Okay. Everything is going to be okay, Zee…" Numbness began to nip at the tips of his grasping fingers while a layer of sweat started to grow a thick coat on the back of his neck. "…okay. Okay… Daddy said that everything is going to be okay," he blurted, unaware of the rushed diction that spilled from his mouth. A veil of intense heat smothered his face, as well as, that foreboding feeling which always came along during these panic-filled, moments. "…Everything is going to be alright," he declared with a shaky voice.

' _You won't be able to save them.'_

"Daaa-dee!" Zola sobbed into his neck.

 _'_ _They'll all die…'_

"N-No," he sharply whispered, unaware that he was speaking only to himself. He withdrew his left hand from their twins' grips, earning the bedroom's walls with a new round of shrieks and sobs. He placed the hand onto Zola's back and applied a firm, protective hold.

 _'…_ _and you're not going to stop it be…'_

The lump that now infested his throat managed to enlarge making it difficult to breathe.

 _'…_ _cause…You're a coward… A two-bit junkie that can't do nothing right…No one will believe you...You're… A failure.'_

His wild eyes bulged as he began to spit out hacking coughs, in hopes of removing the infestation and having his proper breathing to return.

'Put her down,' his instinct whispered to him. 'You're going to drop her...'

Eric managed to pull through the waves of fear and panic and regain his sense of awareness. He slowly descended to the carpeted floor, where his knees butted up against the—

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

The voracious song of knocks had come from the first floor. They were too muffled to come from any of the second floor's doors, but they were loud enough to grab one's attention.

 ** _"_** ** _PER-PLONK! PER-PLONK!"_**

'Doorbell.'

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RIC!"_**

'The voice. Familiar,' his foggy mind alerted his consciousness.

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RIC!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RIC! OEPN UP! IT'S NICCOLO! ERR—_**

'Name... Familiar.'

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _ERR—_**

 ** _"_** ** _PER-PLONK! PER-PLONK!"_**

A snippet from a memory bit into the forefront of his consciousness. The face of another man was seared into his mind. He possessed a healthy glow to his skin and bright green eyes. He wore Dauntless black and bold, black columns were tatted along his jawline.

'Leader.'

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RIC! OPEN UP! IT'S NICCOLO FROM ACROSS THE HALL! IT'S NICKY FROM ACROSS—_**

"Daaa-dee…"

Frazzled and widened eyes focused on the red faced girl, who stood in front of him. Her own frazzled, wide eyes were looking at him.

"…there's someone at the door," she whimpered and then sniffled.

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-ERIC, OPEN UP THE DOOR, MAN! OPEN UP!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!"_**

'So… that's not my heart beating like that?' he thought.

Zola shook her head. " _Nooo_ … It's the door," she whimpered to her father, who was completely unaware that he has just spoken his thought aloud. Her tiny hand wiped at her left cheek.

Eric numbly nodded his head. He slowly closed his eyes and a grimace appeared on his face, then his right palm.

'…Getaholdofyourself…Getaholfofyourself…Getaholdofyourself…Getaholdofyourself…'

"Do you want me to go get the door?" she said softly.

He slowly shook his head, even with his palm pressed to his face. "No," he spoken into his hand, his voice muffled.

'…Getaholdofyourself…Getaholdofyourself…Getaholdofyourself…Getaholdofyourself…'

 ** _"_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM…"_**

His hand slipped from his face. Eyes with a pair of eyelids that were half-mast, stared at the child.

'…aholdofyourself. Getaholdofyourself… Eric!'

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM…"_**

"I'll get it," he whimpered. "I'll get it."

Zola nodded her head. "Okay, daaa-dee," she mewled.

Eric grabbed a hold of the carpet to balance himself as he sluggishly stood upright. He surveyed the wall that stood behind Zola and the decorations that graced the black walls. Then those same eyes peeped the child that stood in front of him. "I want you to stay in here with your brothers. I'll come and get you. Okay?"

Zola nodded her head. "Okay, daaa—

Her tiny, creaking voice was overpowered by the brusque sounds of the knocking. He peeped the exit that was several feet in front of him. Then he glanced at Zola again. "It's…" he spoken in a sharp, low tone. He paused and took a breath while fighting to fight back against the symptoms from his panic attack. "It's… It's going to be okay, b-baby," he confirmed to her. "It's going to be alright. I… I just need to go downstairs and investigate because… It's the right thing to do. I'm a leader. Do you remember?" After viewing his daughter's head nod, he resumed speaking. "I need for you to be a brave girl for me, okay?" There was another set of head nods from the girl. "I want you to look after your brothers, okay?"

"I'll make them stop crying, daaa-dee," she told him.

A simpering smile touched his lips as he nodded. "That's good, baby. Thank you. Now, I—

"Go, daaa-dee," the girl instructed. She walked up to his knees and gave them a firm push. "I'll be okay," she informed him. "Go help."

A right hand reached down and gave her thick waves of hair, a fluffing. His stinging eyes glanced at his crying sons, who were now unleashing streams of silent tears with the occasional whimpering. He glimpsed at his daughter again. "I'll be back. We… We'll watch movies today. Okay?" he told her after taking a few steps towards the nursery's exit.

Zola nodded her head and her tear-filled eyes focused on him. "Okay," she whimpered.

Eric took another pair of hesitant steps before he turned his gaze away. Then he began his tough task of leaving his children and heading into the corridor. Once in the hallway, his right hand reached behind him for the door's knob and closed the nursery's door.

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM…"_**

The faction leader made quick glimpses at both ends of the hallway before he had taken on a light sprint, for his trip to the condominium's front door.

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM…"_**

The knocks were now considered to be ferocious banging, once Eric stepped foot into the first floor. The noises were loud and were proudly rattling his eardrums.

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM…"_**

A pair of sock-covered feet skittered across the wooden floor's smooth surface while their owner eyed various points in the living room. But, his eyes always kept locking onto his destination.

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBAH…"_**

Eric trekked up to the tall, black metal door and reached for the muted, stainless steel doorknob. His fingers curled around the lever and swiftly pushed down.

 ** _"…_** ** _BOOMBOOMBOOMBAH—_**

The onslaught of knocking finally came to an end, once he yanked the door open. The last, finished knock managed to stir up an echo into the spacious living room. Its predecessors, on the other hand, were able to leave a steady, dull ringing sound in both Eric's ears.

'Wha—

" _What?"_ the Dauntless faction leader spewed as soon as he opened the door. As he spewed the discourteous greeting, his blue eyes' gaze crashed into the watery gaze that belonged to a pair of bright green eyes. There was a rapid-fire, visual assessment from the leader as he stood in his doorway. He stole a look at the early morning stubble that graced the knocker's tattooed jaw and throat. 'Nicky,' his instinct called out to him. '…Salazar.' Eric took note of the deep redness that decorated his neighbor's usually, naturally-tanned face. "Nicky…" his lips uttered.

"Err…"

"…I heard shots out—

" _Nassy's been shot_!" Niccolo blurted out in a mild shout.

'Wha…? No. No. That's not possible. No. No, she wasn't…'

Then all of the pieces, the answers to those initial questions, had fallen into place for him. In a swift sequence, fragmented scenes began to play in his mind. The montage were built around the freshly-made memory that just occurred: Nasira walking down the hallway, the declaration of love and of the moment when he heard the first set of gunshots. 'It… It was enough time,' his logic regrettably revealed. 'There was enough time. There was enough time…No…No. She can't! She… She's been…She's been—

 _'_ _Nassy's been shot.'_

A shuddering gasp fell from the neighbor's parted lips. "Nassy's been… We gotta go downstairs, Eric! Come on…" he kept revealing with his trembling voice. His right hand performed a feverish comb-through his chin-length, red hair. His wide eyes remained focus on Eric. "Nassy's been shot!" he repeated. "We gotta…" The man took a few steps away from the doorway, all the while, giving Eric a look of fright. "…We gotta go! We…"

 _'_ _Nassy's been shot!'_

 _'_ _Nassy's been shot!'_

 _'_ _Nassy's…'_

Niccolo Salazar's voice and his announcement played repeatedly in his brain. Devastation and disbelief bit into his consciousness, leaving his physically-imposing frame in a very vulnerable state. Coldness bit at his flesh while a forced case of stillness weighed his limbs down. Eyes remained locked on the man that stood in front of him.

"…gotta go, Eric, man! We…"

The neighbor, the messenger and the cause behind Eric's numb state, approached the stunned husband. His right hand reached out and grabbed a hold of Eric's right wrist. He gave it a light yank. When there wasn't a sign of movement, he stared into the blanked, cold eyes of his neighbor. "Come on, man!" he uttered. "Come…" He brought his right hand to his colleague's face. "…on…" A series of firm smacks were placed on Eric's left cheek, in rapid-fire succession.

Niccolo recognized the physical signs of shock, being that he was a licensed, battle-field medic as well as, a faction leader.

"…Come on, Eric. Come on, man. Come on and snap out of this man. Nassy needs you. Nassy needs you, man. Come-Come on, Eric. Come on. You gotta wake up out of this! You can't—"

"No." It was a whimper. It was a soft, barely-there whisper. A pair of head shakes followed the declaration. "No… No," he repeated.

Knowing that timing was of the essence, he knew that he couldn't wait around until this influence was broken. He gave Eric a determined glare and then simply took a hold of his hand. He realized that he needed to bring the leader down anyway, even if he had to drag him while he was in this state. He gave a strong and firm yank to the slightly older man's wrist. The move caused Eric to make a few choppy, large steps into the hallway and out of the apartment's threshold. He glanced at Eric.

"Come on, man," he sighed.

He took a hold of Eric's wrist again and pulled it again. He watched Eric surge forward clumsily before his feet began to willingly travel. He still carried the sign of being in shock with his slow-paced stride down the carpeted hallway. As he drew closer to the big guy's frame, he heard a whispery-soft 'No' come from him.

'It'll do… But, dear God… Protect them all,' the red-head silently declared.

With Niccolo Salazar playing the role of guide, Eric was led down the corridors and to the elevator bay. As they waited for an elevator to take them to the lobby, Niccolo gave a swift assessment of his colleague, in hopes of some sign of acceptance.

 ** _"—_** ** _AHHH-UGHHHH…"_**

Even in the descending carriage, her screams and cries managed to be heard. The voice. The inflections in the tone…

Eric's mouth made a sharp and audible gasp. Eyes widened as they filled with both fear and tears. 'Nass—No… No…' A strangled, gasp filled the small chamber. 'No. Noooo-no-no-no… No…' his brain frantically cried out.

 _"_ _DING! GROUND…"_ The elevator came to a smooth stop. There was a couple of milliseconds of immobility before the sleek, metal doors broke at the seam. _"…FLOOR—_

 **"—** **ARRRRRRRGGHHHHHH!** ** _WHY?! WHY?! ERR…WHAA…_** **"**

The roar of a cry entered the elevator carriage with the force of a charging battering ram. The booming cry told the story of its creator. The story that was filled anguish and of extreme pain.

 **"…** **W-W-WHY?!"** the anguished voice called out, in a loud sob. More screaming sobs followed. **_"…ERRR-RIC! ERRR-RIC! ERRR-RIC! GOD! GAH…AWD! ERRR…"_**

 ** _"…_** ** _RIC! ERR—_**

There was pressure forming in the center of his back. Then there was a force. It wielded itself against him, causing him to stumble out of the elevator. A touch to his left wrist and a strong pull, before he could consider the owner. Frenzied, rapid visual sweeps were made as he was pulled. Slightly blurred faces that belonged to slightly blurred bodies, came into his traveling view.

The screams still filled his ears and seeped into his brain, where it prodded at his memory bank.

 ** _"…_** ** _ERRR-RIC! MY BAY… MY BABY! MY BABE… MY BAY—ERRR-RIC!"_**

In response, the happier moments were desperately being unpacked and were being thrown down into the forefront of his mind, as some sort of salve.

A pair of socked feet, which were practically gliding against smooth-textured stone of the lobby, were now scraping along the rough surface of asphalt from the neighborhood's sidewalk. The lobby's manufactured, cold air was replaced with the unrelenting, hot temperature that made up the day's weather. The synthetic, citrus scent that wafted through the building's lobby was ripped from his nostrils. In its place, the ferocious family of the odors, sulfur and blood, which accompanied the carnage that was showcased right in front of his eyes.

The carnage that the mental salve, the catalog of happy memories, was desperately needed for.

With wide eyes, he peered at the scene that was unfolding two and a half yards in front of him. Eric took in the appearance of the small mob of spectators that stood in front of him. Every man, woman and teenager had their heads, as well as, their attentions pointed in one singular direction. Glimpses were given to the faces of the bystanders that were standing in close proximity. On every person's face, there were expressions of supreme interest in the spectacle that was unfolding.

 ** _"…_** ** _AIRR! ERRR-RIC! ERIC!"_**

'Nass…' he silently called out. Invisible fingers forced themselves inside of his throat and they progressed to gripping his esophagus. Nausea gripped his belly.

 ** _"…_** ** _.ERRR-RIC!"_** Nasira cried out again.

'Nah—

His lips released the continuation of his thought as he stared wide-eyed at the backs of a few bystanders.

 ** _"_** ** _ERR…"_**

"Nass," he managed to utter.

 ** _"…_** ** _RICK!"_**

 _'_ _NASS! NASS! N—_

 ** _"_** ** _NASSSSSS!"_** Eric screamed. With a renewed vigor, his feet propelled him forward, in the direction of the crowd. **_"NNNN-NNNASSSSS!"_** With a runner's jot laced to his feet, the husband charged into their direction. **_"NNNNNNASSSS!"_** It was shouted into the Chicago atmosphere before there was initial contact with the crowd. The call stayed on his tongue as his hands snatched up various shirts, collars and even the limbs that belonged to the people that stood in his path. He violently re-directed them, either in the form of a push or a brusque pulling. The frenzied man ignored every spat out insult that came from the mouths of the helpless spectators. He even ignored the gasping bystanders, who uttered his identity to their fellow man or woman. Somehow, during his wading through the turbulent waves of people, a formulation of shouts began to disperse.

"That's the husband!"

" _That's that woman's_ man. Let him through!"

"Let him through, y'all!"

"Let him through!"

"Move out of the way!"

"That's Dauntless Leader Coulter…"

"Oh my God! _That's his wife_!"

"Let the man get through!"

Soon, his blunt fingers didn't have any limbs to grab up and push out of his way. Nor, any articles of clothing. The turbulent waves receded. The standing crowd split apart and now they left a suitable amount of berth, allowing the faction leader to travel to the scene. The charging sprint returned to his feet and he took off. Once he became free from the gathering, he continued to run into the direction from where his wife's screams and cries were coming from.

"… ** _ERRR... ERR-RICK!"_**

Eric's view landed on the remnants from the butchery that occurred no less than an hour ago. Several feet from where he stood, he eyed a small congregation of three people. He observed the three as they yelled out to each other. He noticed that they were kneeling on the asphalt, a foot away from Nasira's parked Jeep Wrangler. They also were kneeling a few feet away from the damaged, bullet-adorned SUV that belonged to him. As he eyed the family of five bullet holes in the driver's door, a skittering blur invaded his peripheral view.

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RICCCKK!"_** his wife desperately cried out.

Blue eyes were drawn to the roving figure and quickly learned that the skittering creature were a pair of feet. Feet that were attached to a pair of legs that were weakly battling the sidewalk. Underneath the writhing limbs, there were crimson stains on the gray, cracked pavement. The two Dauntless men and the woman managed to form their gathering around the pair of familiar legs.

 ** _"_** ** _ERR-RICK!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _NASSSS!"_** the faction leader screamed out with the ferocity of a battle-cry. **_"NASSS! NASSS! NASSS…"_** Eric continued to bellow out as his feet surged on. The soles of his feet violently slapped against the pavement as he ran towards the scene that displayed his wounded wife. **_"NASSSS!"_**

" _Who is he?!"_

 _"_ _He's her husband!"_

 _"_ Well, he can't be so close in case _—_

 _"_ _Delta_... He's _her husband_!"

"Move a little! Give him some space! At least… He could hold her hand and talk to her…"

Eric picked up each voice that belonged to the medics, once he reached upon the crime scene. He didn't acknowledge any of them. His eyes were solely focused on their impromptu patient. Blurred vision panned over the wounded woman. Eric felt every bit of his legs' strength leave. Seconds later, there was the burning sensation of pain scraping against his kneecaps. 'Nassy…No…' he soundlessly spoken in disbelief.

Nasira. His wife. His most trusted warrior out of this whole goddamned faction. In fact, out of this whole city and of this world. She was now laying on a dirtied ground, broken, helpless and in tremendous pain. And he could do not a damn thing about it.

'…No. No…' his brain continuously spat out in turmoil.

Numbed fingers reached for the bare skin that covered her left shin. He couldn't feel the warmth in her limb, unlike earlier this morning. He realized this fact as his line of sight drifted along her bloodied and disheveled body. The black, ill-fitting jacket was splayed out on the sidewalk. It was carelessly ripped to shreds. Scraps from the denim jacket were currently used as makeshift gauze for her wounds, by the bloodied hands of the good Samaritans. The front of her tank top has been torn from her body and has left her blood-covered torso with just her brassiere. Once his eyes met that contorted and anguished-inspired mask that was her face, his trembling lips sobbed, "Nass".

As she writhed and screamed out in pain, dark brown eyes locked onto his own pupils. A body-shaking cry escaped from her. "…Err-Err-Eric," she sobbed. "Err-Eric…"

A hoarse sob escaped him. His blood-stained fingers slid up her leg and held a firm grip on her left thigh. "Nass… Nass, please stay. Stay with me," he cried.

"Listen to Eric, Nassy! You hear me?!"

Teary eyes glimpsed at the lone woman out of the trio of medical professionals. He recognized her. Nicole Salazar. His neighbor that lived in the apartment that was across from Nasira and his home. The wife to the red-haired, Niccolo. Currently, she was applying pressure to his Nasira's stomach.

"…You listen to your husband, darling!" she calmly stated as she made glimpses to Nasira's face and torso.

"Nass…" he whimpered, now looking at his wife. "…Baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being here. I'm sorry… Please… Please stay with me."

Eric viewed her trembling lips part and then closed. A whinnying cry escaped her closed mouth as a deep grimace covered her face. Her body unleashed a worrying shudder. There was a wet gasp before she spoke again. " _Whyyy_?" she sobbed. _"Why_?"

"I'm sorry," he cried. His head shook. "I should've been here with you… I…"

" _Why? Why…? Oh God! Why, him?! My…"_ she cried into the air.

"…should've been there…" he lightly spoken before a light tormented-driven sob fell from him. "…I should've…"

" _…_ _baby! My baby! My baby! He… He took my baby from me!"_ she proclaimed. Her voice dissolved into painful wails of sorrow. Her head began to lift from the pavement. The action was bathed in verbal protests from the doctors.

"Nassy…Please don't do…"

"Ma'am, please keep still! We have…"

"Ma'am, please try not to move."

Eric witnessed his wife's action. He was about to utter his own protest, when he realized what she was doing.

Remembrance came crashing down into his memory bank.

 _"_ _He took my baby from me!"_ Nasira hysterically cried. _"He killed him! He killed him!"_ The top of her head butted up against the asphalt, so her face could point to the car. _"He killed him! He killed my baby! He…"_

His own line of sight aimed towards the bullet-decorated vehicle. The faction leader's eyes first peered at the driver's side door. It was a guaranteed, initial reaction. He was just so focused on Nasira. It was a normal reaction.

 _"…_ _killed my babe…"_ A wave of heart-wrenching sobs came from her. Then, there was a loud, wet calling. _"Lou… Lu-Lu…Luke! Luke! Lu-Lu-Luke! Lukkkee! Lukkkeee…"_

There was a feminine, horrified gasp. " _Oh my…"_

" _Luke_ …? Nick… Who's Luke?" one of the male medics asked.

'Naa…'

Blue orbs took their concentration away from the busted, driver's side door and they commandeered their gaze to the passenger side door that was behind. Coldness wrapped him as awareness struck him. Eyes helplessly took in the back door's horrifying state. The door was clean of any bullet holes, which wasn't the cause of the devastation that was ripping through him. He stared at the empty, but damaged window pane. There were only two small shards of glass still rooted into the metal frame. Logic sadly reminded the father that the window was destroyed by bullets. Then it reminded his soul about Lucien's new car seat, the recent purchase made by his mother. The very same seat that would've put their baby…

 _"—_ _addy, I am as tall as you!" the reflection of a smiling Lucien announced, cheerfully. He watched his baby boy exuberantly wiggled in celebration as he sat in his new booster seat._

A deep grimace touched his face as more tears soiled his cheeks. " _No. No…"_ he began to sob as he realized.

…right in the way of the bullets as they struck the window.

" _Lukkkeee_ …" he lowly sobbed. He continued to stare at the damaged window frame that was on the truck. "…Lu… Luke…Luke…Luke! Luke! Luke! **_LUUKKKEEE! LUUKKKEEE! LUUKKKEEE!_** "

Unaware of the physical reactions that were based off of primal instinct, the devastated father continued to shout at the SUV truck. He kept screaming for Lucien, their son, to respond to him.

 ** _"_** ** _LUUUKKKEEE! LUUUKKKEEE! LUU…"_**

Eric rose to his feet and pulled himself away from the medical intervention that was happening at his feet. His feet carried the rest of his body away and into the direction of the damaged truck, in the form of uncoordinated, slow steps. His eyes were still locked on the vehicle. His spirit still held out hope that his little boy was going to pop up, on the other side of the door and peered out of the busted window. So, he still screamed his son's name.

 ** _"…_** ** _.UUUUKKKEEEE! LUUUKKKKEEEE!"_**

The pair of dirty, sock-covered feet still trekked over to the rear of the vehicle. During his trek, the world no longer exist for Eric. Currently, the godless man was silently praying for a miracle, something that would defy the logistics and would make Erudite scientists scratch their heads in confusion. Everything became muted for the father and husband. He wasn't aware of the bystanders' horrified gazes and the shocked faces. His hearing didn't pick up their gasps and whispered declarations. Nasira's wailing and screams held the same weight of an errant breeze. Every particle that made up the father, from the calcium in his bones down to the cells in his blood, were existing just for this moment.

 ** _"_** ** _LUUKKKEEE! LUUKKKEE…"_**

The pungent, sulfuric odor of gunpowder swam up to his nostrils, causing the faction leader to lightly snarl. There were a few flicks to the tip of his nose by his blood-stained fingers. He still was persistent with his pursuit. He kept walking over to the vehicle, as well as, screaming his son's name. He carried the hope that he would find his precocious, 'Little Me' in the back of the truck, safe.

 ** _"…_** ** _LUUUKKKEEE! LUUKKKEE! COME ON, BABY! LUUUKKKEEE! LOU—_**

His own tongue managed to cut off the proceeding call.

But, the appendage did allow a loud, shuddering sob to escape his mouth. It was unleashed, when he was less than twelve inches away from the vehicle. When his eyes were able to zero in on the features that were inside of his truck. The sorrowful wail was released after his soul agreed with his logic, about the savagery that his eyes were currently picking up.

Blood. There were splatters that receded into specks in the rear of the vehicle. His son's blood was on the white leather interior that lined the rear passenger door. It was on the white leather that graced the back of the seats, as well as, on what was left of the back view window. His eyes' gaze bounced off of several points that were in the backseat of the SUV. Then, the bleary gape found a small crop of sandy-blond curls, blackness and red specks on naturally-tanned skin.

'NNN…No. No. No…No! No! No-no-no-no-no-no…'

Another grim moan escaped from the faction leader as his sight took in the gruesome spectacle that took up the backseat. Mindless steps were made across the pavement and to the backseat door while his eyes were forced to take in the new scene that revealed itself from his new vantage point. Horror-filled eyes grew wider in diameter as it took in the view of his bloodied and motionless son, who was still sitting in his brand new booster seat. His jaw became slacked as he was struck with a coldness that managed to freeze up his flesh.

'…no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no…'

A shrilled gasp came from that gaping mouth, which brought along the presence of a piercing wail that followed. Stunned, Eric numbly took a few backward steps away from the door. His wide-eyed gaze was still pouring into the vehicle. An agonizing, high-pitched gasp escaped his body right before he lunged for the door.

"Lou-Lou… _Luke?_ Lou—

Blood-coated hands crashed into the once-polished alloy siding that was on the door. Frenzied fingers pawed at the metal handle while his eyes were still peering at his wounded child. Lips flapped as short, vulnerable whimpers came from the back of his throat. The door, after several frantic attempts from Eric, finally let go of its resistance and opened.

With his eyes on the small, slumped form, Eric surged forward and climbed into the rear of the SUV. Fingernails clawed and dug into the leather that covered the seats as he dashed across the emptied seating to get to the other side of the cabin, where Lucien was positioned. Once he reached the macabre destination, he realized that the boy was still strapped in his seat. In a frenzy, his probed the thick nylon straps of the seat belts until he found their release. Quick reflexes allowed the frantic father to catch his slumping son before the child could fall from the car seat. His fingers snatched up the immobile child's arms and proceeded to move him, with the objective of sitting him up, running through his mind. Within milliseconds, a thunderous and distressing cry filled the truck's cabin and the remnants floated out of the busted windows.

Even with his Erudite-cultivated sense of logic, Eric couldn't comprehend the scene that was presented before him. He _knew_ that the bleeding and unconscious form was his son. But the ghastly appearance that was in his embrace told him differently. Traumatized, he peered at the wounds and at the evidence of injuries that plagued the six-year-old. The most obtrusive wound was the deep laceration that marred the top of his head. It managed to sever the thick layer of skin that grew along the left temple and the majority of the scalp that covered the left side of his skull. The laceration still wept, causing the boy's face to be stained, as well as, Eric's tank top and arms.

"Lu-Lu-Luke!" he called out to the boy, in a frightened whisper. Choppy breaths escaped from his parted lips and his eyes made frantic glimpses at his son's condition. "Lu-Lu-Luke… Lou…" His hands pulled the rest of the child's body from out of the seat and led him to his lap. "…Luke… K-Kid, wake up! Wake up for me! Wake up for your daddy!" he whispered into the child's face. His left arm wrapped around the boy's soiled back while his shaking right hand cradled the boy's head. "Please-please-please-puh… Wake up. Wake up. Wake up," he frantically pleaded. Trembling, blood-soaked fingers reached out to the gaping wound and pressed the torn flap of flesh to the skull, a feeble and desperate attempt to fuse the wound together. "…Come on, wake up for your daddy, Luke! Come on…" he whispered as the pad of his thumb wiped at the boy's forehead. "…Come on…" sobbed Eric. "…Come on and wake up for me…" A whining cry fell from his lips. "…please. _Please_ wake up for daddy." Several short sobs, followed.

 _"_ _Oh my God!"_

 _"_ _There's a baby back there!"_

 _"_ _Was he hurt or something? I hope to God that he wasn't…"_

 _"_ _Someone call a medic!"_

 _"_ _One's on their way! They're coming!"_

 _"_ _I hear them! I hear them! They're on their—_

 _"_ _Someone tell those guys over there!"_

 _"_ _Ay yo! The ambulance's on their way!"_

 _"_ _They're on their…"_

Eric's sense of hearing picked up the various statements that were spoken by bystanders, who were surrounding the crime scene. His other senses were also in hyper-drive, as well. He was able to smell the overpowering, sulfuric odor that was still polluting the truck's interior. It was an unbearable presence to the point, where his taste buds were coated by the gun residue. His fingers, which were bathing in blood, were numbing up. But they were picking up the dying warmth that was once in the plasma. Then, his arms' flesh noticed the heat from Lucien's pliant form was dwindling down, as well.

 _'_ Help him.'

The paternal instinct to help his progeny filled his spirit. It filled his chest and gut with a seedling of fire. Eyes peeled away from the precious cargo that was being held in his arms and he glared straight ahead, past the windshield of the truck. He stared at the line of bystanders, who stood several yards away. **_"HELP ME!"_** he screamed with a severe urgency. **_"HELP ME! HELP ME, PLEASE!"_** He looked away and stared out of the former, backseat window, at the standing bystanders. **_"HELP ME! HELP ME! HELLL…"_** The shouting father peered down at his son again. **_"LUKE?! LUKE! COME ON, KID! DON'T-DON'T-DON'T-PUH-LEASE, KID! COME ON, LOOK AT DADDY! LOOK AT DADDY!"_** Frantic eyes peered out of the windows again, using short glimpses. **_"HELLLPPP-PUH! HELLLPPP ME! PLEASE!"_** He focused on Lucien. **_"LU-LUKE! LUKE, LOOK AT DADDY! LOU…"_** Eric continued to urge his son to wake up and to tell his fearing spirit that everything was fine. His right hand gave the boy's left cheek a few soft pats, in hopes that the child's eyes would open. **_"…COME ON, BABY! L-LUKE?! LUKE, WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"_**

A shaky sob erupted from the spiritually-broken man. The embrace that was around the smaller and limped body had become tighter. "It's okay," cried Eric. "It's okay, kid. You're going to be okay…"

 _"—_ _is the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

"…We're going to be okay. We're going to be alright…" he murmured into his son's forehead. The blood's metallic scent filled up his nose.

 _"…_ _little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

"Sir?! Sir?! _Sir_?!"

A gust of cool air blew across Eric's sitting form, causing an eruption of goose-pimples along his arms' surface.

 _"_ _Sir_?! Sir… We need to check on the boy! Sir?! Sir, are you listening to me?! Sir…"

Blue eyes peered at the woman, whose well-built frame was filling up the space that was in between the opened passenger door and the rest of the truck's big body. He detected the clean black uniform that she was wearing, as well as, the stethoscope that was draped around the back of her neck. 'Medic,' his brain alerted him.

"Sir… _Please_ … Let me… Let _us_ help your little boy," the EMT urged in a calm fashion. Her brown eyes were filled with uneasiness and concern. "Please sir. Look… You don't even have to leave his side as we examine him. Just… Allow us to take care of him…" Her head performed a few soft nods. "Okay?"

 _"… '_ _Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

" _Please_ , sir?"

 _"… '_ _Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

Eric peered down at his unconscious son. With shuddering breaths spilling out of him, the grieving father gingerly released the tight hold that his arms performed around Lucien. His right hand returned to its cradling against the child's injured head while his left arm carefully moved against his back. With every inch of movement, Eric's alarmed eyes observed his progeny and silently monitored his condition. Soon, a pair of cleaned hands were adding their own brand of aid to the weakened child. They held a gentle grip against the child's bare shins.

"Santos?! Gilliam?!" the EMT shouted from over her left shoulder. "Get over here! I need help!" The shouted command conjured forth a pair of emergency medical technicians, who were both men. The two additions didn't acknowledge Eric as he sat in the backseat.

The father watched the men as they effortlessly picked up Lucien from off of his lap and out of his limped embrace. He listened to the three EMTs speak to each other using medical terms and in a rushed fashion. Then he witnessed the three technicians carry Lucien from out of the backseat and then away from him. Wordless and immobile, teary eyes surveyed the limped and bloodied Lucien, as he was carried from the truck, across the street and then to the ambulance that was parked directly across from the SUV. The EMTs carried the child to the rear of the vehicle, where there was a gurney waiting for them.

 _"…_ _prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

A wailing siren caused Eric to take his attention from off of his son. His head slowly popped out of the truck's cabin. His weary and sore eyes surveyed the arriving ambulance that was about to slowly drive pass the rear of his truck. He stared at the roaming vehicle as it drove passed his own vehicle and when it double-parked right beside Nasira's jeep. His eyes, then, proceeded to sluggishly survey the neighborhood that was right behind his truck.

 _"… '_ _Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

His soiled, right hand gripped the door frame seconds before he set out to step out of the vehicle.

 _"… '_ _Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy…"_

He shifted in his seat, a subtle scoot against the leather's smooth surface.

 _"… '_ _Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy… 'Tis—_

Pressure lightly nipped at the toes of his left foot. His active foot then kicked an object. 'Wha…?' his brain murmured. He swiftly figured that there was something on the truck's flooring. He looked away from the noisy spectacle that was surrounding him and glanced down at his feet. He was greeted by a bright red, hardcover book. It covered his left foot, ever since it was haphazardly knocked over.

'Luke's—

 _"_ _Pops… It's a storybook!" Lucien revealed. Eric peered at his son as his tiny fingers maneuvered the large textbook-styled children's book._

As he eyed the book, his left hand descended into the path of his latest finding. Fingertips traced the smooth-textured ridge of the book's binding for a second, before he picked it up from off of his foot. He brought the book to his lap, where it was given an observation from an emotionally-disoriented man. Callused pads that were attached to fingertips ran a mindless caress to the smooth and glossy, front cover. Fingers traced over the golden, embossed words that were on display on the hardcover book.

 _"_ _Daddy?" he heard spoken from the backseat._

 _"_ _Yes, Luke?" Eyes peered up, into the rear view mirror and stared at the reflection of the boy, who now sat in a new booster seat._ _Eric was greeted by a dark gray-eyed gaze._

 _"_ _Can I do something?" the child asked of him._

 _Eric saw the look of mild hesitance in Lucien's cherubic face. The notion that he was bothered by something. Or rather, someone, filled his head. It wasn't a far-fetched idea, ever since the kid had his first experience with bullies, a few weeks ago. The fine, short hairs on his forearms bristled as he felt his ire rise. He looked away from the mirror for a second, so he could eye the road. A curt exhale was shot from his nose before he returned his steely gaze on his son's reflection. "What would you like to do, Luke?" he queried, in a tone that hid his true emotion._

 _"_ _I was wonderin'… Can I call you 'Pops' instead?" Lucien requested._

 _'_ _Wait… What? 'Pops'? Where did this come from?'_

 _A smile gently tugged at Eric's lips. "Pops'?" He glimpsed at the road again and then back at the rear view mirror. "Why do you want to call me 'Pops'? In fact… Where did you get that name from?" he asked, feeling lighter in mood now._

 _Lucien made a soft sigh, in which his little plump lips smacked afterwards. "The other kids in my class said that I was a baby because I call you 'Daddy'…"_

 _The light, jovial mood was now tainted with that ire._

 _"…_ _I had asked Nova, yesterday, at lunch time, what should I call you instead? She said… That 'Pops' is a good idea because it sounds like 'Papa', but she said that I couldn't use 'Papa' because she calls her daddy 'Papa'. So, she said that 'Pops' is good," the child confessed. Lucien looked away and stared at his bag of cotton candy. After stuffing the bright blue and pink, sugary confection into his mouth, he looked at the driver's seat. "Soooo… Can I?"_

"Dauntless Leader Eric Coulter?"

The announcement of his official title was recited from the other side of the vehicle. His eyes' focus still remained on Lucien's storybook and on the memory that was still fresh in his mind. It was an insignificant memory that turned out to be meaningful. He unleashed a soft sob as he eyed the hardcover.

"Dauntless Leader Eric Coulter?"

His line of sight regrettably tore itself away from the book's cover and he peered over to his left. He came across the appearance of a well-decorated and high-ranking officer from the Dauntless Patrol. He stood on the same side that Eric used in order to enter this truck.

"Dauntless Leader Coulter…" With a subtle flick of his left wrist, the flap to his wallet dropped and revealed a polished, gold police shield. "…my name is Police Chief Nelson Robeson…" He slipped the once-brandished badge into the left pocket of his pants. "…I have some questions for you that needs some answers. First… Can you please exit the vehicle, so my men can investigate the interior, please?"

Eric unleashed a wavering, soft sigh and then gently nodded his head. His gaze returned to the storybook that was now being held in his hands. Blood-speckled fingers tightly and desperately clenched the smooth edges. As he stared at both objects, there was a strong sense of the wrongness of its existence.


	8. Chapter Six: Sleep

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** :

** in Britney Spears voice**

"Oops... I did it a-gain..."

So, yeah, I felt bad that I managed to break a promise to _you guys and gals_ , when I said that I was going to post two chapters (Chp. 5 and Chp. 6) simultaneously.

As you know by now, things didn't work out that way and I posted just Chapter Five.

Thank you for the love (for that chapter), by the way. To be honest... I wasn't expecting too many readers for that chapter.

In regards to this spanking, brand new chapter, this is not the final chapter to this story. The last chapter is going to be the next chapter. This chapter does carry the "back-to-back" flashbacks, so be prepared. I had fun, when it came to writing this chapter.

Now, on to the "Fine print"...

 **RATING** : RATED 'M'/NC-17.

 **PAIRING** : ERIC/OFC

 **WARNING** : THIS STORY CONTAIN ADULT SITUATIONS, WHICH MAKES THIS STORY UNSUITABLE FOR MINORS UNDER THE AGE OF 16. CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING: ADULT THEMED SITUATIONS. SEXUAL MENTIONS. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE. MENTIONS OF MINOR GORE. ADULT LANGUAGE.

ALSO, THIS IS A 'DIVERGENT SERIES' FAN FICTION STORY THAT IS ENTIRELY A/U, NON-CANON AND SOME OF THE VERONICA ROTH'S CHARACTERS ARE VERY OOC.

 **DISCLAIMER** : I don't own any of the rights to the "Divergent Series". Everything, with the exception of the O/Cs, belong to Veronica Roth.

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX** : "... Sleep."

 **~*oMLo*~**

It was close to dusk, when Trigger came back around to pick Eric up, for the trip to Erudite's Landsteiner-Popper Memorial Medical Center.

By then, the faction leader felt a little less crazy and the weight from the burden managed to lift off of his spirit, only a little. The guilt for Nasira's and Lucien's assault had receded and left his soul feeling the sense of anxiety that came along with the emotion of excitement. He wanted to desperately see Nasira and their son. He was so anxiety-riddled, scores of adrenaline kept pumping through his veins, making his body perform a subtle and steady tremble. As he waited for his brother-in-law to show up, Eric's hands trembled to the point where he kept them on his shaking thighs.

Before Trigger could arrive, he placed his rolling suitcase and additional duffel bag by the front door, so he could immediately leave out. He packed an additional bag, when he figured that he didn't have any clothes for himself. He was determined to stay in the Intensive Care Unit suite with his wife and son until their very last day of their in-patient stay.

The time was a quarter to nine, in the evening, when the two Dauntless men arrived to the façade of the hospital. The faction leader practically leapt from out of the vehicle before Trigger could park alongside the curb. The sergeant gave his brother-in-law a non-verbal and swift gesture, informing the man to "go ahead", ever since Eric was too excited and was willing to harm himself in order to see his family. Eric broke out in a full-sprint as soon as his feet touched the asphalt that belonged to the sidewalk. He ran through the Erudite hospital's elaborately-decorated grounds, disregarding the quizzical passersby, as he ran. He only slowed his sprint's pace, when he needed to speak to a security guard about the location for the Visitors' Desk. He, then, ran the halls and corridors, dodging loiterers, patients and the medical staff. After reaching his destination, his lips managed to spit out his wife's and son's names, in between pants, to a pair of staff members. Both employees, two women dressed in immaculate blue uniforms, first stared at the huffing Eric as he stood over the desktop and wiping away the sweat that accumulated over his face. He spotted the expressions that were etched on their faces; the looks of uncertainty and mild concern for their own safety. The faction leader was aware of his current appearance with his baggy, black sweat suit and disheveled appearance. Yet, he didn't care and didn't need to take these people's opinions about him, into consideration. He needed to see his wife and Lucien.

Once the burning sensation in his chest managed to dwindle down, blue eyes stared at the two women. In an even tone and pace, Eric repeated his wife's and son's names, as well as, asked for directions to their current locations. For his second request, he was able to be met with some proactive results. The woman that sat on the left side had perused her computer and came up with the location of the Intensive Care Unit, as well as, the number to their suite. Eric gave a subtle head nod and murmured a "Thank you" to both women, before he broke off into another sprint. Before he left the arching receptionist's desk, he noticed the look of understanding cross the face of the woman, who sat on the right side of the cubicle.

Upon his arrival to the Intensive Care Unit, the frazzled father and husband lightly trotted off of the elevator and came to a sudden halt. He was immediately struck by the energy and the presence that the elevator bay carried. As his eyes peered at the large sign that was mounted on the facing wall, which dictated the location, his spirit felt a soothing, but cold and mildly somber energy surrounding him.

'Like… How death is supposed to be,' his logic whispered to him.

He looked to his right and found a straight corridor waiting for him. The hallway also looked cold yet soothing with its navy-blue walls and framed, wall art. Large, potted plants aligned both sides of the wide corridor. His nostrils picked up the smells that usually circulated through medical facilities: the mild scents of cleaning fluids and the medicinal scent that came with pills and supplies. He peered further down and spotted an electric, sliding door at the end of the hallway. He released a deep sigh and then his booted feet proceeded to walk the long corridor.

Before Eric could approach the sliding door, the large machinery slid open as if it knew of his presence. "This is… Erudite, so anything's possible," he muttered under his raging breath. He passed the threshold of the sliding door and was greeted by another sliding door. He stared straight ahead and spotted medical staff in blue nurses' uniforms as they congregated behind a large circular desk. His ears picked up the sound of a smooth 'swoosh' as the first door closed behind him. Once the door closed, the second door opened. When the door held a wide enough berth, Eric slipped his brawny form through the opening. As he approached the large, round desk, every occupant stopped performing their tasks and they stared. He detected the glaze of concern and wariness in their orbs as they observed his approaching form. Unbeknownst to the warrior-leader, his eyes carried the same glow.

Eric was almost less than a foot away from the nurses' station, when a seated nurse rose from her chair, behind the desk. He noticed that she carried the decorum of a professional, but it didn't match the look of apprehension that coated her face. For her face, the eyes leveled him with a cautious glare while her lips held a gentle, tight-lipped grin. 'A zookeeper that's about to go and feed the lions.'

"Dauntless Leader… _Coulter_?" the grinning nurse announced.

His head slowly nodded. "Yes," he answered. His eyes performed a broad, sweeping glance at the other nurses, who were still openly gaping at him. He returned his glare to the standing nurse. "I am Dauntless Leader Coulter," he informed her.

A soft sigh came from her nose. "Okay," she muttered. "I won't… Keep you from… Um, I am going to escort you to your wife's and son's suite. Is this…? Is this alright with you?" the nurse asked him. Her voice was naturally soft and filled with emotion.

It was a sign that she wasn't originally from Erudite, Eric quietly assessed. 'She lacks the Candor confidence. So… Amity… Or, Abnegation.'

The nurse gave her colleagues a glimpse before she left her position from behind the desk. Once she came to stand in front of him, her right hand performed a subtle 'come hither' motion, granting him permission to follow her. Without saying a word, Eric obeyed her command. The Erudite nurse began to lead him into the entrance of another long, straight corridor. This hallway's appearance was similar to the one that he had just traveled with its blue walls, framed art and plants. But, this corridor also carried closed off rooms with frosted glass doors, on both sides. Before passing every door, his nosiness kicked in and he would peep at each door's contents.

""My name… Is Nurse Helena Howlett," the staff member announced as they strolled down the hallway, interrupting Eric's train of thought.

Eric stared down at the diminutive woman, who walked a few inches in front ahead of him. She didn't bother to glance at him as she spoke.

"I am your son's night nurse," she informed him. "I've been looking after him since last night. Nurse DeWitt, who was sitting at the desk too, is your wife's night nurse. Here, in the ICU…" This time, she glimpsed at him from over her slender right shoulder. "…the patients are taken care of by only a selected few. Every nurse who works up here takes care of one patient and one patient, only. So, I've been assigned to take care of your son until he is discharged and he will be my only patient. You don't have to worry…" She stared straight ahead. "…about any other staff entering that room," she notified him. "Now, in regards to your wife's and son's physicians, there are four total, two for the day and two for the night shifts. Tonight, there are Dr. Smith and Dr. Gustav, whom were paged, after we received word that you were here."

Eric nodded his head.

"They will inform you about their conditions and if you have any questions, then you can ask them," the nurse suggested.

"Thank you," muttered Eric.

"Before you had arrived, we were told that due… _To the circumstances_ … We had taken the liberty of placing a folding cot in the suite, for you. All we ask of you is to keep the cot out of the way, so that we can easily examine Mrs. Coulter and your son."

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed. "Thank you," he murmured.

Nurse Howlett nodded her head. Silence had come between the two people. The nurse continued to escort the Dauntless leader down to Nasira's and Luke's room. He watched the nurse transitioned into the right side of the hallway as they approached the entrance of another hallway that was on the right side. Then he followed her as she veered into the hallway. Eric was greeted by a large blur of black and blue, when he stepped into the threshold.

As the blackness began to take shape in his eyes, he muttered a simple "Max" to himself, which proved to be the most obvious answer. The blackness, which decorated the hallway, morphed into a small squad of Dauntless soldiers. The group of twelve soldiers were dressed in their battle gear, complete with the arsenal. They currently resided in the corridor with small folding chairs. He eyed every one of them. 'Max… Thanks, man.'

Once his presence was known, the soldiers immediately lined up along the walls and stood in the appropriate stance. He allowed Nurse Howlett to walk ahead of him once more. He gave the hallway a glimpse before he took his first step. With the walls covered by saluting soldiers, he strolled the carpeted floor. His eyes made glimpses at the faces of the men that were there to protect his wife and son as they recuperated in their suite. He gave each man a subtle nod, a sign of his gratitude for their willingness to look after his wounded family. He knew that Max must've assigned the man-power to stand guard during their stay. He, however, felt that it was now excessive since he learned about Anissa's involvement.

"Dauntless Leader Coulter, sir…"

Eric came to a soft stop. He turned away from the walking Nurse Howlett and turned into the direction from which he just came from. His line of sight crashed into the view of a soldier's broad chest, which was covered by a black flak jacket. His view scaled up the chest, past the thick tattooed neck and stopped, when he reached the face. He came across a bald man with a long, black beard and a mustache. A pair of blazing, light brown eyes were glancing down at him.

"Pardon the disruption, sir. I'm sorry about that," the soldier declared. "Sir, my name is Corporal Nadir Cowrie. I am from Special Ops. But I am a friend of Rogue Grant. Nasira…" His hazel orbs glimpsed at Eric. "…she's like family to me, sir. Anything… _Anything_ … That you… Or, if she needs anything, then please let me know. Please don't hesitate," the soldier explained.

The faction leader felt a twinge pull at his chest. He took in a wavering inhale. On the slow exhale, he extended his right hand in front of him, a request for a handshake. "Thank you," he lowly stated.

The larger man took a hold of Eric's hand and accepted the shake. "You're welcome, brother," Nadir told him during the exchange. With his left hand, he gave Eric's shoulder an affectionate pat. Both hands separated as both heads nodded. Then Eric resumed his trek and the Corporal returned to his duties.

Eric caught up to Nurse Howlett, who was now standing beside a closed-off room's entrance. She stood by the door with her hands folded in front of her. Once they were closed eonough, she issued another tight-lipped grin.

"Sorry," he uttered.

"Its okay, Dauntless Leader Coulter. It's alright," the woman stated. Her brown eyes made a glimpse at the frosted, plate of glass that was in front of them. "Here is their room," she announced. "Mrs. Coulter and your son has been in here since their releases from surgery. I can tell you that they're stabled and their vitals are improving by the hour. Hopefully… Both mother and son will be waking up tomorrow."

Eric looked away from the polite, yet peculiar, nurse. His vision focused on the frosted, glass door that was in front of him. He eyed the sleek-looking, electric sign that was mounted on the pane.

'Coulter – coulter. Private suite. Restricted.'

A sense of relief showered his spirit as Eric read the message that was written on the sign.

"We were told that there is a limit to the visitors that can visit Mrs. Coulter and Eric, Junior.," Nurse Howlett reported.

"That's correct," he grunted. "Currently, only the family can visit. Once my wife wakes up, then she can add whoever else," he told her as his right set of fingers reached out for the door. The pads of his fingertips touched the glass and was immediately kissed by sharp pricks. 'Shhh…it!' He withdrew his hand away from the door's vicinity. The glass door possessed a layer of cold that was startling. 'Cold,' his instinct muttered. He glanced at his fingertips to make sure there weren't any sign of burning. 'Cold like a…' He shook his fingers.

'Like it was a morgue,' that part of his soul cruelly whispered out to him.

Imagined, fear-driven sights flashed before his mind's eye. Images of both Nasira and Lucien, dead, on metal slabs in the Dauntless Faction territory's morgue. Lifeless and cold eyes were half-closed and staring up at the air. Pale lips were parted, exposing the bottom rows of teeth. For Lucien, the ragged lacerated flesh were crudely sewn shut by thick, black string. Nasira's metal slab was decorated with a splashes of pink water, her diluted blood. Both bodies were covered by thin, white sheets. The sewn-up incisions from their autopsies were peeking over the edge of the sheets.

 ** _"_** ** _THRR-WRUNCK!"_**

 _"_ _Sir?!"_ The sharp, whispered call had come from the nurse.

He realized that he had his eyes closed. Pain exploded into the tendons and knuckles in Eric's right hand. Shocked, his eyes snapped open to find the cause of the discomfort. He stared at the closed, meaty fist that was resting on the frosted, pane of glass that was before him. 'I…'

" _Dauntless Leader Coulter_? Are you alright, sir?" asked Nurse Howlett.

'… _Punched the glass_?!'

The faction leader knew that he didn't have the time to dwell on whether or not he had punched the glass. His cobalt-blue eyes locked onto the nurse, who remained beside him and with a thinly-veiled look of horror on her face. A few ragged breaths were expelled from his nose before he spoke. "I'm… _Alright_. _I'm okay_ ," he reported. He returned his glare to his fist. His appendage slowly peeled its skin from off of the door.

"Let's… Let's go in, okay?" the nurse stated in a manufactured, polite tone. Her brown eyes were glossy with fear.

Eric nodded his head. He still felt unsettled, inwardly. The case of emotional fragility was caused by the sudden terrifying, images and the scary fact that he lost control of his hand's actions, which led to that punch to the door. He glimpsed at his right hand, whose knuckles were steadily throbbing at the moment.

He allowed the nurse to take control. The demure woman pushed the door and gained access to the hospital room. She casually strolled into the suite and then held the door open. She stood off to the side and wordlessly, invited Eric inside.

"Come on in, sir," she politely announced, when she noticed that he didn't budge.

A stone-sized force ate away at his gut while a chill that was stronger than the central air, nipped at his skin's surface. Stinging eyes stared directly ahead and into the suite. As he absorbed the images of floor-to-ceiling windows, his spirit took note of the astounding sense of stillness that circulated through the room. He was standing in front of the threshold, not in the room and he could feel that energy.

"Come on, Dauntless Leader Coulter," the nurse encouraged. She remained in the same spot, beside the door. But, her hand was moving, the act of beckoning him. Under normal circumstances, Eric would've considered the gesture to be patronizing and rude. But as of now, he was dealing with an insurmountable amount of gratitude towards the woman. It was those long, delicate fingers that were unknowingly telling his spirit that everything was fine. And if there was anything that was wrong, then it was going to be straightened out, eventually.

He glimpsed into her eyes and held a stinging gaze, as he made his trio of steps into the room's path, by crossing over the threshold.

" _There you go_!" she congratulated him, in a whisper. "Come on, Dauntless Leader Coulter. You can do it. You can come in here. Both of them are fine."

Eric decided to issue a few more steps into the suite. Eyes peered down at his black boots as he traveled further into the suite. He tried to ignore the discomfort that would erupt in his stomach, with each footfall that he had performed. The stone that was in his gut would jostle around and was making sure to strike every wall inside of his belly. His sight made a reluctant glance, straight ahead. The emotionally-conflicted man found himself staring at the barely-visible reflection from a window. Then, there was the fact that he was now standing in the center of the room. ' _What?_ ' his brain whimpered in surprise while a snort grunt came from his mouth. He whipped around to face the nurse.

Nurse Howlett displayed a congratulatory smile. " _You see?_ All it took was one step, sir."

Eric gave a gentle nod, a silent symbol of gratitude.

 _"_ _Beep… Beep… Bee…"_

 _"…_ _eep… Beep… Beep… Beep…"_

Eyes peered away from the nurse's appearance and his gaze was turned into the direction from where the trails of beeping were coming. His feet made the rest of his body turn to his left, where he was welcomed by the view of standard, hospital equipment. Machines, thin metal poles, shelves and small monitors were aligned against a blue wall, along with a pair of beds. With a glance that drifted, by a mere half of an inch lower, he was able to take in the sights of Nasira and Lucien. The stinging sensation in his eyes gave way to make room for the onslaught of tears.

"Like I've mentioned before, Dauntless Leader Coulter… Both your wife and son are stabled. We've been trying our best to keep them as comfortable as possible…" the nurse reported, minutes later. "…A doctor will be in shortly, to give you a more detailed report."

Eric glanced at the woman. "Thank you," he murmured.

"You're welcome, sir," she announced in a low tone. She took a step into the direction of the doorway. "I am going to leave you alone for now. So you can… Be with your family."

There was a throwaway glimpse from over his right shoulder. "Okay," he said softly, absent-mindedly, as he was turning his head. He returned to observing Nasira and Lucien. Once he heard the soft clicking sound from the door being closed, a very audible exhalation was expressed from his nose. He tore his gaze away from the sleeping patients and he eyed the straight-back chair that was in between both beds, a few feet away. Within seconds, Eric made that chair into his place of sanctuary. Once seated, he quietly surveyed Nasira and Lucien.

Lucien were resting and recuperating in the bed that was on Eric's left side. The hospital bed was positioned in a subtle incline, which left the child in a comfortable position. His tiny hands were arranged in a folding position, on his stomach. His left hand and arm were subjected to needles and thin, plastic tubes which were connected to the various machines that were beside his bed. Eric spotted more tubes and thin black wires as they ventured underneath the collar of his hospital gown. The father's view ventured forth and glanced at the young boy's face.

 _"_ _Wake up for your daddy!" he whispered into the child's face. His left arm wrapped around the boy's soiled back while his shaking right hand cradled the boy's head. "Please-please-please-puh… Wake up. Wake up. Wake up," he frantically pleaded. Trembling, blood-soaked fingers reached out to the gaping wound and pressed the torn flap of flesh to the skull—"_

A grimace blocked his viewing. A distasteful grunt escaped his mouth, which was the brusque luring that pulled him from out of his memories and back into awareness. His eyes opened to a squint and he was welcomed by an obscured view of the sleeping child. A few trembling breaths were unleashed from his nose while his heart raced. Fear kept her cold, long fingers gripping the back of his neck, leaving the hairs to stand up.

'It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. They're here. They're here. They're here. They're here…' he chanted to himself.

Eric's eyesight swallowed up his sleeping son's appearance. The thin, red line that marred his son's scalp immediately caught his attention. It was the site of that former deep laceration, which was now a closed wound. His eyes picked up the tiny dots of reflective light that danced off of the surface to the surgical staples. He continued to pick up the new changes in his son's face, from the ashen complexion in his skin tone to the various healing scratches and the blackened flesh that graced his swollen left eye.

"Hey…"

Eric's attention whipped over to the suite's glass door. He spotted Trigger as he filled up the doorway. In his hand, there was the handle to Eric's rolling suitcase and the strap to the duffel bag was on his shoulder.

"…how's everything?" his brother-in-law inquired as he entered the room.

"Quiet," he honestly answered. It was the best adjective to use to describe the moment.

" _Yeeaahhh_ …" Trigger sighed. He made his way over to the cot's location, where he placed Eric's luggage. "…Well hopefully, Nassy and Luke will change things by tomorrow," he suggested before taking a seat in a chair that was next to the window.

"I am praying for that," Eric confessed, as he began to stare at Nasira.

Similar to their son's current status, Nasira was asleep on a hospital bed that held a slight incline. She, too, was having her health status monitored from machines. Her right arm and hand were subjected to prodding needles and intravenous devices. There were tubing and wiring appearing from underneath her gown's collar. However, her left arm was the only sign of injury that was evident to his eyes. The palm of her hand and her left forearm were encased in navy blue, dried plaster. A cast.

"More than likely…"

Eyes focused on the large figure that was on the other side of Lucien's bed.

"…one of the bullets had gone through her arm and fractured a bone, as it passed through," Trigger speculated, as he eyed his sister.

'Makes sense,' his logic told him. Eric's lips slightly pursed as he nodded his head. "Makes sense," he stated gently, as he turned his head, so he could stare at his wife again.

"So… How are you feeling right now? About… _Yourself_? The conversation inside of my truck… Do you feel like it is sinking in?"

Eric reminisced about his moment inside of Trigger's Humvee, where he confessed to the guilt that he was enduring. With a growing pressure digging at his chest, he uttered, "Trig… This is something that will always be a part of me. _I know this._ I… I understand the point that you were making. But…" Eric paused, leaving that last statement unfinished. He gave his son a lingering stare. "I will always feel like this, man," he finally confessed. He eyed Trigger. "If I just… _Kept walking_ … And I didn't open my mouth and said anything to that bit—

He remembered that his son was present inside of the suite. He shut off the last sentence with his fingers. He brought his left set of fingers to his mouth. His teeth bit into the second knuckle that was in his index finger. It was done out of frustration. Frustration that was bred from not being able to get rid of the toxic feeling of guilt. Frustration that was bred out of the regret that he felt for even talking to Anissa, on that ill-fated day. It was frustration for not being there for his wife and their child, yesterday, to protect them; that it wasn't him laying up in one of these beds, or, in a morgue. The faction leader also was trying to cope with the rage that was intermittently making its presence known. It was becoming unusually stronger as the hours ticked by, ever since he had awaken from his nap, earlier.

Eric looked to his brother-in-law. "Have you received any word—?

" _About Anissa's whereabouts_?" Trigger suggested. Once Eric nodded his head, Trigger proceeded to speak. "No, no word." The Grant son sighed. He was feeling frustration, himself. "I… _I don't know where this woman is hiding_! Wherever it is, _it must be fucking incredible_ …" He blew a gust of air from his lips. "Since we received word of her warrant, teams of surveyors…Each of them contained twenty-four of my _best_ surveyors… _Teams_ , Eric… We've been pouring over every second of every surveillance video that can be found in this city. We lifted footage from security cameras to traffic lights' cameras to surveillance films from stores… We're hitting _nothing_ …" A hand ran over his shorn hair. "The last time she was seen, it was yesterday morning. She was leaving the parking garage of the clinic. She was heading into work. I guess to start her shift. _Since then_? Nothing. It's like she has vanished out of thin air." Then, he unleashed a yawn. "There's… There's a chance that she's hiding with someone, here in the city."

"Probably," grunted Eric, feeling displeased with the new report.

Minutes of silence ticked by before Trigger spoke up again. "Where did you meet this woman, anyway?"

Eric tossed a glare to Trigger. The he turned away, as he began to visit his memory banks. He recalled the day of his introduction to the hazel-eyed demoness. Flashes of that day flooded his mind. He glimpsed at the back of his left hand, which was gripping the wooden armrest that belonged to the chair.

"We met… We met, when we were kids. Nine years old. At the piers, to be precise. We both were playing hooky from school. For her, it was intentional, while for me, it was due to the fact that I had no place to go. I was late to school that morning. In Erudite…"

He glimpsed at a monitor.

"…when students are late to school, they are not granted permission to enter the premises for the day. I was late that day. I couldn't go back home because Deborah left, by then. Or… She was in one of her little drunken sleeps that day. I can't remember the exact reason. But, um, I decided to go to the piers…"

Eyes glimpsed over to Nasira.

"…She was there, already. She… Snuck up behind me… Scared the shit out of me. For a moment, I thought that she was my mother…"

His sight landed on the tops of his boots, which were extended in front of him.

"…I thought that she was… The most beautiful person in the word," he said softly.

In his mind, there was the image that has been engrained in his brain since that day. His eyes narrowed as his spirit grew hot with brewing anger.

"She pegged me as a sucker since that day. Since 'Day One'… And she was right."

He glanced at Trigger, who were glancing at him. "I… Didn't have a good home life." Hands raised in the air, instinctually, to act out a stretch. His ears picked up the soft pops that burst in his back and arms. He brought his palms to the top of his head with his arms akimbo. "I didn't have anything similar to what you and Nass had, growing up, Trig." He looked over to his wife again. "My mother was an abusive drunk that preferred to yell and scream, which is partly why I have such crippling anxiety-panic attacks… That's what my former therapist told me…" His voice trailed off, so a sardonic chuckle could leave his mouth. "…My father was a lily-livered, coward that decided to abandon me and my brothers, when he received the chance."

Eyes came across the view of her hands. He observed the patches of dryness that were attached to her fingers. There were scabbing cuts on her left index finger and on her knuckles of her right hand. Then his vision came to settle on the band of tattooed ink that adorned her left, ring finger.

 _"_ _You're taking it better than I thought, babe," Eric commented. He stood next to her seated form and he peered down at the tattooing processing. He kept his thick, bands of muscles folded across his chest. He was attempting to curb the urge to touch the fresh tattoo that was just etched onto his left, ring finger. "I thought that you would've wuss-ed out before you even got to sit down," he halfway joked._

 _"_ _I'm a lot stronger than you think, dear," Nasira said softly but emotionally-cold. Her head tilted, so she could point her face into his direction. There was a polite smile on her full lips, but the energy that swirled in her eyes told a different story._

 _She was pissed off._

 _His instinct reminded him about his impending wife's list of triggers. He had just struck one. Eric, then, realized that he had indeed fucked up. It wasn't a good idea, especially since the wedding was in six days and they needed to file for their marriage license tomorrow._

 _"_ _Just because…" Her gaze turned back to her hand and the artist's prodding fingers. "…I'm not some… typical, 'Becky Bad-Ass,' who thinks she's brave and tough because her hair ain't blonde and she believes that her cunt-hood behavior is 'edgy'…"_

 _A snort and then a snigger fell from the tattoo artist as she eyed Nasira's hand._

 _A smile tugged at Nasira's lips. "…doesn't mean that I am going to turn heel and run, Eric," she reported. Her gaze returned to his face. "You should know that by now."_

"How bad did you grow up?"

The inquiry pulled him out of his reverie. He looked away from Nasira and gazed at her brother. "It was bad enough…" He stared straight ahead. "…My father… Deborah. She would hit him… Punch… Kick… Slap him. In some cases, she would throw things at him, when he was still living with us. She would just scream at us kids. But, occasionally, she would attack my oldest brother, Ray— _Alexander_ —whenever she couldn't get to my father. Then, after he left, we all became her targets."

"I'm sorry to hear that man," the brawny soldier said softly.

Eric's shoulders slightly hunched as his head performed a slight tip. A slight frown touched his face as he stated, "It's just the way it is. Well, _the way it was_ for me". He brought his hands to his lap. He focused on his son's sleeping form. Fissures of excitement kissed at his soul, making his skin heat up and his stomach to rumble. "Since Luke… There have been times when I would think about certain incidents from my childhood and I'll think… ' _Where-the-fuck-were you?'_ And I'll become angry—

" _At who_?"

Eric glimpsed at his brother-in-law, who appeared to be the second confidante in his life. "My father," he confessed. He stared straight ahead. " _Actually_ … He's my step-father. I learned that shit, when I was about ten years old… Eleven, perhaps. I don't know much of my biological father except that he's the manager for the maintenance crew that worked out of the building that my mother used to work from, back in Erudite. By the time I learned about that, I was already in Dauntless…" His lips frowned up. "… It doesn't matter now. But _yes_ … I find myself getting angry at my step-dad, since I've learned about Luke…"

 _It was a simple message, but it caused his body to react, nonetheless. Eric's fingertip touched the screen that was attached to his phone and the voice message began._

 _"_ _Hey dick-head, it's me. I'm calling you to let you know that she's coming back… Tonight. She's not returning to work until next month, but she will be returning to Dauntless territory… Listen… She's my best tech… Alright? So, whatever shit that is going on between y'all two… Squash it, okay? So, don't kill her… Or, fuck her again and she ends up going back on maternity leave again. Okay, fuck-nugget? Alright? Bye."_

 _A smile tugged at Eric's lips after listening to Rafe's voicemail message. Even though his oldest brother was being facetious, Eric knew that his brother suspected that he would murder her. 'Nope,' his brain disagreed. He watched the traffic light flash green, allowing him to pull off. 'Nope,' his brain repeated. 'Just want to see the kid… See the kid… If he looks like he could be mine, then we'll just head on down to Candor… Get a DNA, just to make sure. Get that waiver… Make sure she signs it… And I'll… Be done with it…'_

 _A huff-sounding cough spilled from his mouth, which led to a coughing spell. He was able to keep his eyes on the road as he tried to clear his throat._

 _Once his spell died down, he slipped back into his reverie. 'I can't,' he surmised. He glanced out of his window. 'I can't be a father. Not now anyway.' He stared out of the windshield. 'Eventually, I will.' Blue eyes were greeted by their reflection as they peered into the rear view mirror. "Gotta help in replenishing the human race, right?" he murmured before unleashing a joyless snicker. "But nah… Not now."_

 _After commandeering the big metal beast down the barely-populated streets for several minutes, Eric arrived to his destination: Nasira's apartment building. He decided to park his vehicle as far away from her potential viewing as possible. As he briskly walked down the quiet, tree-lined block, his eyes sought out for any physical signs of her vehicle. He was aware of the fact that he looked sketchy-as-hell with his pullover's hood covering his face. He didn't give two-shits._

 _Eric managed to make it to the front of her building without any form of confrontation. He came to a stop in front of the façade. By happenstance, he surveyed the area and he ended up spotting Nasira's Jeep Wrangler, parked across the street. As he observed her vehicle, his body underwent a company of odd sensations. Simultaneously, he was bathed in intense heat, pressure expanded in his stomach and it led his heart to unearth thunderous pounds against his chest. A hand cupped his shrouded stomach. 'What-the-hell is that?!' he pondered, as the feelings subsided._

 _He gave the truck a final glimpse before he moved to enter the building's lobby._

 _Within minutes, Eric was inside of Nasira's apartment. He was confident with the instinct that she wouldn't have changed the key-code to the front door. She wasn't the type to be crafty, or even paranoid enough, to go through the lengths of changing the code. Once inside of her living room, the spying faction leader received another confirmation of her return from the eleven-month sabbatical in Amity. The area displayed lingering effects of human activity. There was residual energy throughout the room. The fragrances, smells and odors were still fresh as it waved through the environment. There were perfumed scents like baby powder and women's perfume lingering. His own stomach growled in envy, once he took in the smell of spice-enriched food._

 _Sounds of splashing water and juvenile chuckles entered the living room. Eric traveled across the living room and entered the short corridor. He eyed the door that led to the bathroom. He stood in front of the closed-off lavatory and listened to the noises that were coming from the interior. There were the happy-infused shrieks and babbling that obviously came from Nasira's baby. He picked the occasional, murmured statements from Nasira, as well as, the sounds of water splashing._

 _'_ _Nasira…'_

 _From the subtle reference of her name, Eric's brain was washed with memories that pertained to her. In a disorganized and choppy formation, he recalled times that came from their secret meetings, during the period in which he was scheming for Anissa's heart. Times in which his eyes would casually drift and view the various succulent parts of her tall and voluptuous form. Then, there were the remembrances of the night that managed to get him into this trouble in the first place. The moment of when he decided to act out his primal urge. The moment of when he left this very same bathroom and found her standing in front of her windows, singing along with the stereo. He remembered that sultry aura that exuded from her, which was completely different vibe for her. As he stood in front of her bathroom door, he recalled the tangy taste of her skin as he licked and bit into the hot flesh. The way that her cunt clenched and fluttered on his prick as he fucked her on her desk, that night. The moans and mewls that came from her lips and how they conjured up that beast of an urge to leave her womb, filled, with his seed._

 _'_ _Yeah… And now look what happened,' he secretly grumbled._

 _Before his impromptu trip down 'memory lane' could get him in trouble, Eric took a step away from the bathroom's door and then he continued with his tour of her place. He strolled down the rest of the hallway and came to a doorway in which the beams were bathed with multicolor lights. His eyes peered into the bedroom, only to discover that it was a nursery. His eyes' vision danced off of various points that decorated the baby's bedroom. As he spied, the pressure that took camp in his chest and stomach added more weight. Fingertips, absent-mindedly, found interest in his diaphragm, which was the area that felt the most damage. He gave the bedroom a final glance as his mouth set free unsteady breaths. A clumsy, backwards step signaled the continuation of his tour._

 _His sneaker-covered feet led Eric to Nasira's bedroom. Dim lighting met him at the door while incensed-infused air lured him inside. His eyes made swift sweeps of observation around the spacious bedroom. There were four walls, which alternated between two colors: white and a deep shade of purple. Each wall carried its fair share of decorations, from wall sconces to framed artwork to wooden masks. He tried to ignore the charismatic feel that made up the bedroom. He was also making attempts at disregarding the semi-erection that was wedged in the folds of his boxers, as well._

 _'_ _Divergence…' Eric assumed as his blue orbs did a slow-paced sweep at one half of her bedroom, a purple-painted wall. '…on full-display, in here.'_

 _It was very obvious to the Dauntless faction leader as he checked every colorful item out. 'Candor… Definitely Amity…' He took slow strides over to her bed's location and he stood in front of the footboard that belonged to the massive, fluffy monstrosity. Placed on one side of the bedroom, the king-sized, standard bed was the only Dauntless-related, attribute that was in the room. The bed's mattress was covered in black linen: a thick black comforter that resembled a cloud to the faction leader, a family of fluffy pillows were stationed at the head of the bed and a fur-lined throw blanket was casually draped at the foot. A pair of nightstands guarded each sides of the bed; each small tabletop held a lamp which Eric thought was unnecessary and ostentatious. He turned away from the bed and focused on the opposite side of the bedroom. He only found the usual bedroom staples: more furniture, a pair of French doors that led to a walk-in closet and there was another doorway that led to a dark room._

 _There was an odorless, invisible and soundless energy floating around the bedroom. It was as if this bedroom was talking to him, but only a few parts of him could understand the language. This energy was surrounding the faction leader and was starting to make the warrior feel things. Emotions that he wasn't forming on his own. He was feeling a sense of belonging and security that he has never felt in his entire life. He stood in the center of her bedroom, feeling the warmth that would only come to a person after they've arrived home. It was pulling out the primal urge of wanting to strip out of his clothes and slide into her bed, so he could fall into a slumber that he has only dreamt off._

 _'_ _It's calming oil,' his logic revealed to him, after having to wade through the euphoric meddling that was happening._

 _Eric's eyes widened in irritation, based off of his notion. With a scowl etched into his brow, which deepened with every passing second, he searched for any evidence of the dreadful concoction, as his feet slowly spun in a circle. His hasty investigation came to a crashing pause, when his ears picked up the sound of a door opening. His instinct alerted his brain that the bathroom's door just opened and Nasira was going to enter the premises. His feet came to an impromptu halt and then they pointed to the closet's doors. The faction leader soon found himself jammed inside of a closet and hiding from a woman and a baby._

 _'_ _How… Fuckin' embarrassing,' he grumbled, once he realized that he was indeed hiding from a woman and a baby._

 _Seconds later, Nasira entered the bedroom with her arms embracing the reason for his act of home intrusion. His eyes peered through the slats of the doors. With his limited view, he watched the Dauntless mother stroll over to the foot of her bed and then deposit the talkative toddler onto the mattress._

 _"_ _Stay there, Chunky Butt, while I go and get you something to wear," he heard her say to the child. In response, the child unleashed a stream of squeaky babbles._

 _Eric, still playing the role of hiding stalker, watched his former lover head on over to the chest of drawers that were on the other side of the bedroom. His eyes widened in diameter while the rest of his body had shown signs of pleasing surprise, once he saw her bulky towel drop to the floor and her nudity was on display. Now, he couldn't ignore his sex, which was now displaying its full thickness. He quietly assessed her post-pregnancy frame as she proceeded to search for nightclothes for both herself and her son. She would pause with her searching, just so she could peered over to the boy and to check up on him. Meanwhile, Eric enjoyed every second of her time. She finally dressed herself into a frumpy, buttoned-down silk night shirt._

 _"_ _Alright, baby boy…" she happily announced as she walked away from the furniture piece. "…it's time to get you ready for bed." The child, whom she affectionately called 'Chunky Butt', babbled a response as he crawled over to her._

 _Eric stared at her shrouded back as she stood at the foot of the bed. His ears picked up the sounds of ripping Velcro and more of the toddler's talking. He was able to figure out that she was wrapped him up in a disposable diaper, once she moved away from the foot of the mattress. He watched slivers of the child move away from the foot of the bed and crawl back to the center of the mattress. Eric spied on his the child's mother as she strolled to the other side of the bed. He watched her hips sway as she strolled. His prick unleashed a throb. 'Not…Fucking… Helping,' his conscience growled at him._

 _"_ _Come here, baby boy," she cooed as she settled onto the mattress. There was a response for the child, which sounded like an inquisitive 'what,' according to the hidden faction leader._

 _Eric looked through several slats as he continued to keep the scene under his surveillance. He witnessed the baby crawl across the mattress' surface and come to a sudden halt. There was a sudden, gasp of surprise from Nasira. Feeling alarmed, he rose to the balls of his feet while his fingertips touched at a wooden slat, which were at his eye-level. His fingertips pressed down on the thin plank of wood, an attempt to widening the viewing space for his eyes._

 _"_ _Look at you!" Nasira gasped, sounding thrilled._

 _Eric's left set of fingers managed to wedge through the space that was in between the spokes in the door._

 _"_ _Can you hold it, big boy?"_

 _He almost crashed his face into the door as he hastily placed his eyes in front of the widened space. He peered past the door and viewed the scene before him. Several feet away, on the bed, there was a toffee-skinned toddler with a cloud of sandy-blonde curls on his head, who was currently standing on the mattress. Eric couldn't see the toddler's face. The baby was focused on his mother. Low, garbled giggles escaped from his mouth as he tried to maintain his balance on the bed._

 _"_ _Come on, baby, can you make a step?" she cooed. "Can you take a step for me, big boy?"_

 _The child a squeak and a babble. Then he raised his left foot and attempted to make a step. He ended up falling to the mattress._

 _"_ _Oh!"_

 _"_ _Oh," Eric lowly groaned in disappointment after watching his child collapse onto the mattress._

 _The toddler's boisterous and jubilant laughter bounced off of the walls._

 _"_ _Oh, baby boy!" she cooed to the child, which was met by more laughter from the child. "Well… You can't say that you didn't try," she concluded. "Come here, boo-boo… It's time for bed. Time to go night-night," she informed him._

 _The child, then, crawled across the mattress' surface, leaving remnants of his giggles behind. Eric watched the child make his way over to Nasira's fleshy lap, where he was picked up by his mother and placed in her embrace. The toddler sensed that he managed to fall into a trap, no less than a minute after being in his mother's hold. He proceeded to kick up a fuss, once he realized that she was about to try to make him fall asleep._

 _"_ _Hey-hey-hey now…" Nasira lightly scolded. "…Stop this. It's time for your bedtime, baby boy."_

 _Discomfort began to bite into Eric's fingers as he kept them pressed into the wooden slats from the French door. His eyes performed a glimpse at the over-worked digits. Once he noticed that they weren't suffering from any drastic, physical changes, he returned to peering from out of his viewing hole._

 _"_ _Yeah-yeah-yeah," the faction leader heard Nasira grumble to the child. "You don't like it when it's bedtime. I know. I know."_

 _His sight veered away from the sight of the barely-dressed woman and it landed on the child, who was now laying across her lap. The child was staring at his mother, but the profile angle for his face was on full-display. Eyes focused on this particular vantage point. He avidly observed the child's protruding forehead, the delicate swoop that was attached to his nose's bridge, the rosy cheek and the slope from his chin. His eyes returned to the task of reviewing the child's eye and the thick, curly fan of eyelashes._

 _'_ _It is official: he's mine,' his conscience confessed. 'He's most definitely… He's my kid,' he recognized. The intrapersonal acknowledgement didn't stop the hiding faction leader from undergoing the reactions of being shocked. As his eyes numbly watched mother and son interact, his body become surrounded by intense heat while his stomach intermittently contract and fill with a minor case of queasiness._

 _"_ _What are you staring at, Lucien?" Nasira asked. A soft babble was released from the child. "Are you smiling for your mommy?" she cooed. She received the gift of youthful laughter. "Do you want mommy to sing you a song?" he heard her suggest._

 _Eric was about to recall the last moment of when he heard her singing voice, when she suddenly spoke again._

 _"_ _Ugh," he heard lightly scoff with mild disgust. "You look more like your father, whenever you do that, Luke…"_

 _'_ _Luke… She… She named him 'Luke'? Or, could it be short for 'Lou—_

 _"_ _I don't mind that you look like him though. Just don't be a scheming, manipulative, over-achieving douche-bag, like him. Please?"_

 _There was something in her words that managed to conjure up his sense of indignation. In the back of his subconscious, he felt mild surprise about his reaction to her words. Eric was well-aware that he was a man that possessed a 'thick skin'; the enviable ability to control his emotions during trying times. He knew that his level of tolerance could rival the resilience that could be found in the metal siding on a tank. He even managed to keep his temper unflappable after being spat with verbal insults by angry factionless, as well as, during the moments in which he was literally spat on._

 _"_ _If I was a man that had a weak ego, I would've felt insulted by your statement." It wasn't until he listened to the last echoing syllables from that statement, when Eric realized that he has just blown his cover and revealed that he was spying on her, during an intimate moment._

 _There was a shriek and then there was an eruption of the sounds from the mattress' bedsprings. He listened to her reaction as his fingertips found the round, wooden knob that was attached to the French door's interior. His eyes remained locked on the door as he proceeded to slide the door against its tracks. Milliseconds later, his view became clearer. Less than twenty feet away, there was Nasira and her Lucien, on her bed. The Dauntless mother still had her toddler-son in her protective embrace while she was pressed against her bed's headboard. She carried an expression that was a mix of shocked and confused while the boy held a look of rapt interest._

 _Nasira's lips committed a few flaps before words were able to fall from them. "How… How did you get into my apartment?!"_

 _But Nasira wasn't his primary object of focus, at the moment. He couldn't hear her anyway. The sounds that came from his racing heart had filled up his ears. Strong vibrations circulated through his large frame, leaving it's tremors in his hands. His pair of alert eyes were staring at the bubbly, fleshy bundle that was laying against her chest, with his chest against hers. He noticed that the boy purposely allowed his head to flop back, so that he could see the person that captured his mom's attention. The faction leader detected no fear from the child's dark-colored eyes._

 _Eric realized that Nasira had spoken to him. He glimpsed at her while his foggy brain tried to piece together the moment that he had missed. Taking a risk, he responded with an explanation of how he was able to break into her apartment without leaving a sign._

 _'_ _Go over,' his instincts whispered to his conscious. Following his primal need, Eric's feet made a slow-paced, stroll over to the foot of the ornately-decorated bed. He picked up the flinch, the low gasp and the scoot from Nasira as he drew closer. A smug chuckle escaped his mouth. 'If I wanted to hurt you…' Both hands reached up for the hood that still covered his head and hid his face with a shroud of secrecy. He removed the hood and was greeted with a breeze._

 _"_ _Why…? Why…? Why are you…?"_

 _It was at this point, where he tuned her voice out. Eric was now solely engrossed with the toddler's presence. A fluttering was emitted from his stomach, once he realized that the child was interested in his presence. A pair of dark gray orbs were locked on him, still. Eric took in the full view of the child's, Lucien's, face. Encased in a light-brown skin, which was the only blatant difference between them, Lucien looked exactly like him, when he was an infant, twenty-seven years ago. The boy currently stared at Eric with a pair of eyes that held the same shape and outline as his own peepers. The eyes were separated by a bridge that was barely projecting. The nose's bridge led to a tip that was narrow. Two, pink and full lips were met by the end of his nose. Currently, they were puckered up and blowing raspberries into the air._

 _Eventually, Eric's presence became too interesting for the child. Minutes later, the toddler managed to release himself from out of his mother's lap and crawled down the mattress, to the foot of the bed. Then he settled his diaper-covered butt onto the edge of the bed, which was several inches in front of the surveying leader. Innocent yet fiery, charcoal-hued eyes peered directly at Eric. His plump lips began to initiate a lively, babbling-infused conversation with him._

 _'_ _Damn, he looks just—_

 _"_ _Like me!" his father claimed with a toothy smile. "See, Eric? There's nothing wrong with wearing glasses," his father told him as he stared at him. "I wear glasses! Is there something wrong with me?"_

 _"_ _Noooo," the child drawled with a shake of his head. "I'm just ugly wid them," the child confessed. His small hands reached for the black, plastic arms that were keeping the squared frames from falling off of his face._

 _Raymond Coulter snorted in disbelief from his youngest son's claim. He stared at their reflections. "Hogwash!" he declared. "You look absolutely awesome!"_

 _"_ _Awe… Some?" the child slowly pronounced._

 _Raymond nodded his head. "Yep! Awesome! You look awesome in your glasses! And… You look as smart as you are, in them, too! You're just like me, Eric."_

 _All he could do was laugh as he stared at his father's and his reflection, from the oval-shaped mirror. The strong and steady grip from his father's arms was wrapped around the back of his shins while his butt was perched on the forearms._

 _"_ _Like you!" Eric declared with a point from his right index finger._

 _With that insignificant memory still tattooed in his mind, he continued to eye the baby that was in front of him. Blue eyes stared down at the face of the inquisitive toddler, who was steadily speaking to him. There was a flush of warmness against his skin that was underneath the layer of cotton that made up his sweat suit. 'I can't…' he reminded himself; reminding himself of the declaration that was spoken, when he was driving his truck. '…I can't… I can't…' His jaw became slightly slacked. Shaky breaths came shooting out. '…I can't…' His eyes twitched in their sockets, in reaction to the impending sensation of the stinging, which has already began in his eyelids. '…I can't…' he quietly declared._

 _Fragments from memories began to blaze inside of his mind. Recollections that involved his childlike views of his retreating, father's slender frame. In particular, the views that Eric managed to catch before he was forcibly taken away, by his mother's angry yanks. Views of the slender back and the sloping shoulders, which were always encased in blue, buttoned-down shirts that were ill-fitting on him. The recalls of the sadness and of the fear that ran through his child-self. The sadness was bred, once he realized that the visits were over and his father was leaving again. Then there was the fear, which soiled his spirit, after he realized that he was returning to Deborah's custody. Either, it was back to the house that contained few happy moments, or, when he lived in the shitty apartment, in The Bottoms, where there wasn't any happy moments._

 _'_ _I can't,' Eric repeated to himself. 'I can't.'_

 _He watched the child raise his fat, little arms in the air, which he knew was a request to be picked up and embraced by him._

 _'_ _I can't. I can't be a father. I can't be a fuckin'… Father,' he silently concluded. 'I can't be a father. I'm not… I'm too b-busy…' His head subtly shook with disagreement. '…I can't.'_

 _Lucien provided a little bop to his frame to emphasize his desire to be held by the imposing-looking leader. A grunt spilled from his jowls while his lips pursed._

 _'_ _Pick him up…' his instinct called out. '…Hold your baby.' His palms and fingers began to twitch. 'Pick him up and hold your baby.' The urge began to spread through his arms, making his muscles to softly contract. His hands grabbed the edge of the footboard instead. 'Hold… Hold your son. Hold your son. Hold your son…'_

 _The chubby arms began to dip as they tried to stay in the air, but the strength was being slowly sapped from them. The chubby face folded and became a grimace. Curt grunts began to spill from his lips._

 _'…_ _Hold your son. Hold your son. Hold your—_

 _'_ _You're not your father,' his conscience whispered._

 _The mentioned of Raymond Coulter had conjured forth the image of the man._

 _Eric's stream of thought was killed off by the image of the man. A man that wore horn-rimmed glasses on his oblong-shaped face. Dark brown eyes hid behind those glasses and a thick bridge helped keep those spectacles up. He carried a pair of thin lips on that face, with a top lip that possessed a keloid scar, which was another injury that came from Deborah's wrath._

 _'_ _You're not…'_

 _The trail of curt grunts from Lucien had given way to a tear-infused, wail. Hands dropped from the air and fell to his sides. Tear-filled eyes stared at Eric and issued the father with a silent accusation of betrayal. The energy behind those orbs caused pressure to push at his broad chest._

 _"_ _Aww," Nasira moaned with disappointment._

 _'…_ _your father… Eric.'_

 _The faction leader unclasped the top of the bed's footboard._

 _'_ _Get your boy, Err—_

 _With an ache in his chest, he welcomed the physical urge to embrace the baby and the desire for fatherhood with a dithering level of acceptance. Hands swiftly shot out and grabbed onto the small body that was about to turn away from him. The feel of heat and the softness from the toddler caused ripples of throbbing pleasure to run down his arms and made the hair that covered his tatted forearms to rise. Eric picked up the child and brought him to his chest. Blue eyes met up with teary, dark gray ones as they faced each other. Lucien's cries bounced off of his throat and face. But they withered down to whimpers, when he realized that he reached his goal._

 _'_ _He's… He's mine,' Eric concluded as he stared at his son. 'He's my boy,' he confirmed._

 _The image of the familiar slender back with the sloping shoulders as they walked away, left his mind._

"Every time I look at Luke, or, at Zee… Hell, even with Auggie and Fear…" Eric began to shake his head. "…I can't imagine walking away from my kids, man," stated the father as he absent-mindedly stared at Nasira's heart monitor. The memory of that night for when he finally met his oldest child was still lingering inside of his mind.

"But… _You did_ , Eric," Trigger pointed out.

Eric's head whipped to the left and his blazing gaze turned to Trigger.

"Don't forget. The Wept. The weeks after your stay in the infirmary, after you had your back torn up to shreds," he clarified.

Shame managed to gut-punch him, once he realized where his brother-in-law was going with his statement. The faction leader thought back to the moment of when he was crouching in the dirt and the litter of that dark alley, in that factionless colony. The incident, where he had shown unnecessary amount of care for a vial of Pandora than he would've for another human being, was displayed in his mind.

'No denial. It's the truth,' his logic decreed. According the leader, the statement was a fact and not an opinion. 'Shit. He's… Right. He's absolutely right.' Eric's eyes found his brother-in-law, who was still sitting in the same spot and nodding his head. 'He's right. _I did.._. I left, when I decided that being a junkie was better than being a sober coward.' With reluctance, his head found a way to nod along with Trigger, marking his sign of agreement.

A lump managed to wedge itself into his throat, which caused Eric to begin to cough. He looked away from the soldier.

"There's a pitcher of water on that table, next to Nassy's bed," the Grant brother instructed. Then, with the blunt point of his chin, he pointed into the direction.

Eric followed the path that Trigger pointed out. Coughing along the way, he traveled over to the rolling food tray and made himself a glass of water. After taking a few swallows of lukewarm water, he detected the disappearance of the lump. "Thanks," he sighed after draining the cup of water.

"No problem," Trigger announced.

Eric took his seat again. His eyes were drawn to his son. There was a minute's worth of quietness from him before he spoke again. "You're right…" he said to the man. "… You're right, Trig. _I did_ choose Wept over my son…. At that time, I had chosen _that drug_ over my son and fatherhood. I'm not… _Proud_ of that."

"Eric… You're a good man," the Grant son declared. "So, when it comes to regretting your past mistakes and all of the wrong things that you've done, I am not surprised by it. Don't they teach you guys in rehab that you have to accept the mistakes for what they are?"

Eric nodded his head.

"Well… _There you go_. That's what you're gonna have to do, man: accept your mistakes. Recognize them. Recognize the hurt that you've caused from making those mistakes. Then, try to achieve forgiveness for them. And _you've done all of that_ , Eric," Trigger informed him. "This is why you have Nassy. You think that she would've been with you, if you didn't do all of those things, by now? Hell… Do you think that you would be _alive_ , if you didn't do any of those things by now?!"

The husband and father shook his head. His sight flittered over to his sleeping wife. "I honestly don't know what I've done to deserve her, to be quite honest with you," he confessed. "I remember thinking about this, on the day that we got married. I… _Fucked_ up… So many times, when it came to her. If she would've changed her mind on our wedding day and said 'Fuck this shit', then I wouldn't have been surprised by it, to be honest."

Trigger snorted and then chuckled, in response. The reaction earned him a side-eye glance from his sister's husband. "Oh, boy… _Shut up_!" he chuckled. The suite continued to be bathed with his laughter for a few more seconds. Once the laughter dwindled down, he unleashed an audible exhalation. "Okay," he deeply sighed. "I'm gonna head on out," he broadcasted. "I haven't spent time with my wife and my kids in two days. Plus, I haven't slept in my bed in two days, either." The towering, six-foot-five inched, man slipped from the bedside chair. Muscled arms raised in the air to form a stretch while his mouth performed a thunderous yawn.

"And Nassy thought that me yawning was loud-as-fuck," Eric jokingly grumbled as he side-eyed his brother-in-law.

"Shut… Up," Trigger chuckled. He stretched out his legs before he began with his journey. He strolled from over Lucien's bedside and came to stand behind his seated, brother-in-law. "You're going to be alright, being alone in here?" he queried.

Eric nodded. "Yeah," he said softly.

"M'kay," he hummed. His large, right paw came crashing down on Eric's left shoulder. There was an affectionate pat. "I advise you to try to go to sleep tonight, _Dauntless Leader Coulter_. Tomorrow, this suite is going to be filled with people and plus Nassy and Luke are going to be up, too… It's best to be well-rested," he informed him.

"Who has plans on coming up to—?"

"The people that you should expect: Mama, _of course_. Rogue and Hexa said that they will be coming up here. Dante and Trudy _might_ come up here. Um, I advise you to get some rest tonight, _especially_ if Dante comes up. If not tomorrow, then they will definitely come up on Tuesday. Ahhh…Roxy and Ixa want to come by and see you guys. But they're relying on you and how you feel tomorrow. So expect a call from Roxy tomorrow. Mathilda's coming up with her husband. She's due at any time, so that visit's going to be short. _Rafe…"_ There was a twinge of surprise in his tone.

Eric looked over his right shoulder and glanced at the man that stood behind him. " _Rafe?! My brother?!"_

Trigger nodded. "He called. Just to see how things were going. But he sounded like he was interested in coming up here. I know Meredith will be coming up. Probably not tomorrow, because she… _Unlike some of our family members_ … Have common sense. Plus, my aunts—

The hair on the back of Eric's neck stood while a chill ran down his spine. " _Which_ … _Ones_?" he asked, as his darkened eyes peered at Nasira.

" _Just Claire and Betty_ ," he informed him. "Don't worry… My Aunt Lila is keeping her ass at home. All she's been asking for is progress reports and Mama's been texting her with those, so… She's satisfied."

Eric sighed as relief filled his spirit. The last thing that he needed was for Nasira's and Trigger's aunt to show up, because he knew that that visit would go from being a day's visit to ending up as a four-week stay, in their condominium. Plus, the over-controlling and hyper-critical woman would've kept his wife on edge, with her constant "critiques" about everything. It was best that she would stay home.

"So, yeah… Take your ass to bed, after I leave here… _Alright_?"

The faction leader nodded his head. "Yeah. I will," he agreed, with a tone in his voice that wasn't as convincing.

"That don't sound convincing, Eric," Trigger declared. "I mean it…Take your ass—

" _I will_!" the frazzled father declared. "I will go to sleep… _Tonight_. I just… Just one more hour and I'll go to bed. I am waiting for the treating physician that's on shift to make his visit and then I'll go to bed." Then, to the sounds of Trigger's protesting, he stated, "The nurse that's taking care of Luke said that she paged him."

"Alright… _Fine_. Wait for the doctor. Talk to him and get whatever information that you need to get from him. Then… Go. To. Bed. _Sleep_ ," the Dauntless soldier ordered.

Eric nodded his head. "Yep. Gotcha," he murmured. His head received a playful shake by his brother-in-law's hand.

"Alright, Eric. Well… Lemme go," Trigger muttered. "Have a good night, man."

"Have a good one, Trig."

There were the sounds of retreating footfalls. They were drifting into the direction of the suite's only exit. "Call me, if you need anything!" Trigger called out.

Eric glimpsed over his right shoulder. "I will, man." Then, there was the sound of a soft-tone click, which marked the beginning of Eric's solitude with his sleeping wife and eldest son.

For what felt like hours, being the only conscious person inside of the room, Eric felt the weight of the silence that was lingering in the suite. It was unnerving. He tried the act of meditating, by using the steady beeps from the EKGs as a base point. But he kept losing his train of concentration. After the fourth failed attempt, he chose to disregard the whole practice. Then, he chosen to sit in the straight-back chair, in silence. His steely gaze performed, in an intermittent rhythm, on both Nasira and Lucien during this time.

After several intervals, Eric turned his attention to Nasira. "I knew that I shouldn't have underestimated you," he said softly. "When I heard that you cut up that bastard…" He rose from his chair. "…and caused him to lose some fingers…" He walked over to the edge of the bed. "…I realized it then." Eric obeyed his urge. "I'm sorry about that." His right hand reached for her right hand, which rested on her stomach. There was warmth permeating in her appendage. But her skin was indeed dry, which he knew was a pet peeve of hers. He placed her hand on his right palm and then he covered the back of her hand with his left hand. "I've been thinking about all of our good times since yesterday… To keep from going fuckin' crazy…" His left thumb began to caress the back of her hand. "…I know that I shouldn't blame myself. My fucking logic has been reminding me all day, but…" Stinging eyes caused him to shut his eyes. "…I still feel like it's my fault," he confessed. "I… I'm sorry, Nass. I'm so… I—

The next word's initial syllabled were swallowed up by the set of gentle, pain-filled whimpers.

Eric's eyes snapped open as his brain spewed disbelief. He turned his head to his left, whipping his line of sight onto the other bed's occupant. His eyes landed on the grimacing and mewling Lucien. He was awake, but was in tears because of the pain. Eric spotted the pair of trembling hands as they slowly rose into the air and then veer into his head's direction. 'Head. Scar. The scar's bothering him.' Fingers were inches away from the closed-up laceration, when he heard, 'Break apart' screamed in his mind, about the surgical staples.

Parental instinct took over Eric's spirit without hesitation. "Hey…" he whispered. "…Hey-hey-hey…" He released Nasira's hand and then performed a light sprint across the small aisle that was in between the beds. He made it over to Lucien's bedside before the child could touch the wound. His left and right hands calmly collected the investigating hands of his son. "…you can't touch that, buddy…" he lightly stated to his crying son. "…okay?" Tear-filled eyes gazed down at the child while his lips placed a soft kiss on each hand's fingers. "You can't touch it, Luke, or it'll get worse," he informed the child. After listening to a wail, he murmured, "It hurts? Does it hurt, Luke?"

Lucien gingerly nodded his head. "H-H-Hurt… Hurts," he stuttered in between sobs.

Hearing his son speak caused a strong fluttering to erupt in his gut and his heart to pound. A soft chuckle flew from his mouth. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to get your nurse for you, okay, Luke? She's going to make you feel better. Okay?" he told her. After watching his son nod his head, he gave the boy's hands another set of kisses. "Okay," he murmured.

His eyes gave the area that surrounded the boy's bed, a tour. He looked for the intercom system that he knew was in the suite. He found the speaker-box in the center of the wall that was behind their beds. He released Lucien's hands and placed them on his tiny lap. Then he lifted from the bed.

"Da… Deee," Lucien cried out. With his functioning eye, he stared at his father. Hands reached out for Eric.

The scene caused Eric's stomach to tremble and his heart to race. "I'm… I'm here. I'm here, Luke. I'm not going to leave you alone. I am going to stand right here, okay? I'm not leaving you," he reported to the boy, consoling him. His left hand rubbed at Lucien's left arm while his right hand reached for the intercom's "talk" button.

A second later, the loud sound of static filled the room. It gave way to a polite and clear, "Nurses' Station. How may—

"Um, hi. This is Dauntless Leader Coulter. I…"

"Oh, good evening, Dauntless Leader Coul—

"…My son is awake… And his head hurts really bad, right now," Eric revealed while tossing intermittent glimpses at his son and at the intercom.

" _Oh really_?" the nurse chirped. "That's great… That-That he's up, is what I mean. I'm sending Nurse Howlett over to your suite right now. We'll help your little boy, okay? Just give her… Ehhh… A _minute_! She's just left the desk and is headed your way. Alright?"

Eric nodded his head. "Yeah… Yeah, okay." Then he was met with a firm, 'click' sound, which signaled the disconnection of the call. He gave a glimpse at the intercom panel and then he returned to sitting on his son's bed. "Did… Did you hear that, Luke?" he said in a gentle tone. He watched the child nod his head. "The nurse is coming and she's going to give you some medicine, so that the pain can go away… _Okay?_ " He viewed the pair of plump tears run down Lucien's cheeks, which spurned his own to come forth. At this point, he was stricken with the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

Four minutes later, relief for both father and son had entered the suite. It came in the form of Nurse Howlett. She entered the room with the aura of someone, who've didn't have a care in this world. There was a pleasant smile on her face and her eyes were bright and lively. She strolled up to the foot of Lucien's bed. She peered at the crying child. "Well, hello there, buddy…" she cheerfully welcomed the child. The happiness became depleted, when she spotted the tear-soaked face. " _Oh, no!_ What's wrong, sweetie?"

With a shuddering breath and then a wail, Lucien's right hand touched his shorn scalp. He gave a curt caress against the unmarred area of his head, illustrating his current ache. Eric viewed the action. He desperately wanted to pick him up and hold him. He dug his fingernails into the plastic from the bed's handrail, instead.

"Your head hurts, then? Mmm-hmm… Well, let me give you something for the pain, okay," Nurse Howlett cooed. She then began her trek from the foot of the bed to his bedside. She softly stated to Eric that she needed to get to Lucien's I.V. and he was in the way. Once she was gifted with a gentle and rushed apology from the observing father, the nurse made her way over to Lucien's bedside. She gently took a hold of his left hand, which was strapped and adorned with intravenous devices. She placed it on the mattress. Her left hand reached into her uniform's pocket and produced a small glass vial.

"What…? What's that?" Eric asked as he stared at the vial.

"It's ibuprofen. It's a very mild pain reliever. We don't like to give kids anything stronger than this. Especially, when they haven't eaten anything. Your wife, on the other hand, we've given her a mild strain of morphine due to her age and the injuries that she's sustained," Nurse Howlett explained.

"Okay," he murmured. Then he closed his mouth. He remained silent as he watched the nurse administer the drug to Lucien's I.V.

"We can give him something stronger…" she announced after she was finished. "…But like I've said before, Lucien hasn't eaten anything as of yet." She placed both the needle and the vial into a red, plastic receptacle that was on the floor, next to his son's bed. She stood upright and turned to Eric. "The medicine should kick in within fifteen-to-thirty minutes. In the meantime, if you think that you can calm him down, then that would be great too."

Eric nodded his head as he tried to conjure up any ideas.

Nurse Howlett, then, turned to Lucien. A soft touch was applied to his chest. "Sweetie," she gently said to him. "Sweetie, would like something to munch on? I think that I can scrounge something…" She peered at the child as he slowly nodded his head. "…up— _oh, you would_?! Okay. I think that I can find something for you. Just hold on, okay?"

Lucien nodded his head.

Then, he was struck with an idea. "Nurse How—

"Yes?" she announced, whipping around to face him.

"Is there a sink, where I can wash my—?'

"Oh, yeah! The bathroom…" Her left index finger pointed to the other side of Nasira's bed. "…right on the other side of Mrs. Coulter's bed," the nurse pointed out.

"Thank you. Would you mind watching—?"

"No! No problem, at all. Go right ahead, Dauntless Leader Coulter," the woman told him.

Eric gave Lucien a swift glimpse before he took a light trot to the bathroom. Forgoing the light, he found the sink with the help of the lighting from the suite. He quickly washed his hands and then dried them using the hand dryer. He returned to the room to find a whimpering and subdued, Lucien. He was in the process of playing with a metal pen lighter. He guessed that the nurse must've given him the lighter.

"Alright, I'm back," he calmly announced as he walked over to the unoccupied side of the bed.

"Okay, I am going to leave you two. I am going to leave my pen light with you. It's been calming him down. I, also, promised Lucien that I am going to bring him a light snack to eat. Just give me a half an hour and I'll returned with it," the nurse reported.

"Uh, thank you," Eric told her as he rolled up his right sleeve. He glanced at his son, who was powering the small beam of light, off and on.

Nurse Howlett smiled and then quietly left the room. Eric waited until he thought that she managed to put a suitable amount of distance between the suite's door and herself. Then his hands reached for the hem of his shirt, which was followed by the act of the pullover sweater's removal. He revealed the black, tank top that was underneath. Afterwards, his right set of fingers reached for the laces of his right boot. He observed at his son's current condition as he untied the shoe. Then, the left shoe received the same treatment before he peeled both boots off. Both shoes dropped to the floor with a clatter.

Once he was in a comfortable status, Eric climbed further onto the bed. He found settlement on the empty side of the mattress. As he lain on his left side, he peered at his son, whose solitary dark gray eye was staring at him. A moan of confusion came from the child. 'Don't worry, Kid. Your… _Pops_ got you covered,' he said to himself. Without any verbal communication, Eric's right hand reached across the bed. His fingertips reached for Lucien. A second later, they reached their destination, when they were met with a prickly sensation. Blue eyes stared at his fingers as they began to softly draw invisible circles into the unscathed section of Lucien's scalp. He was able to catch the slight jerk that erupted from the smaller Eric's body and he picked up the soft gasp of pleasure that came from his mouth. The father couldn't help, but smile when he noticed the corners of Lucien's mouth had gone northbound.

 **~*oMLo*~**

Nurse Howlett did managed to keep her word. Thirty minutes later, she entered the Coulter suite, in the Intensive Care Unit, with the snack that she promised Lucien.

She knew that the hospital's cafeteria was closed for the night, but the diner that was situated in the lobby was opened for twenty-four hours. So, she headed to the Bookworm Café and ordered a side of baked, potato wedges and a side of tomato paste, for Lucien. She was aware that he wouldn't eat the entire small, paper basket of red potato fries. But as long as he fell asleep with a full stomach, then it was alright.

"Alright…" she cheerfully stated as she pushed the frosted, glass door opened. "…I said that I would be back in thirty min…" The nurse's voice trailed off, when her eyesight landed on the bed's occupants. A smile touched her face.

In the bed that was assigned to Eric Coulter Junior, there was father and son. Both of them were asleep, judging by the trails of soft snores that came from their noses. The youngest Coulter was curled up to his father's left side with his left arm draped over his father's stomach. The oldest Coulter, in all of his bad-ass and tattooed glory, kept a protective barricade against his son's back, courtesy of his left arm. His right arm served as makeshift pillow for his head.

"Well… I guess that I can put this in the refrigerator till tomorrow," Nurse Howlett muttered. She turned away from the scene and walked to the small kitchenette area, which was almost a yard away from the foot of both beds. She stored the food inside of the mini refrigerator. She gave the father and son another glance. Then she quietly made her exit.

As the door closed behind her, she muttered, "And Georgia said that Dauntless men weren't softies".


	9. Chapter Seven: Masks Off

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

The time has come, ladies and gentlemen. Here is the final chapter to "Waiting in the Void".

I really don't have much to say, except "Thank you" to every one who has taken the time out to read this story. I appreciate every gesture.

I haven't started up the next and final installment to the "Eric and Nasira" series. I am going to focus on churning out another chapter for "The House Ward" (the 'Captain Boomerang' series).

 **PAIRING:** Eric/OFC

 **RATING:** RATED M/NC-17

 **WARNING:** THIS STORY IS AN A/U 'DIVERGENT SERIES' STORY. NON-CANON. CHARACTERS ARE OOC. THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT-RELATED THEMES. ADULT LANGUAGE. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE.

 **DISCLAIMER** : I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE 'DIVERGENT SERIES' PROPERTY. IT BELONGS TO VERONICA ROTH.

I ALSO DON'T OWN THE SONG "MOON SONG" EITHER.

Enjoy!

* * *

With a huff blowing passed his lips, Eric rolled again for the umpteenth time, another sign of his restlessness. From his view, from off of the cot's thick padding, he peered at both his wife and son, viewing their peaceful faces as they slept.

After soothing Lucien and lulling _them both_ to sleep, Eric woke up, close to ninety minutes later, when a new set of visitors arrived to the suite. Sleep-coated and reddened eyes peered at the pair of Erudite surgeons, who were followed by a small gathering of fresh-faced interns. The sleepy father was unaware of the mild perturbed expression that was on his face, a sign of his irritation from being disrupted of his sleep. There were two physicians, dressed in navy-blue scrubs and decorative head caps. It took only one of the doctors to introduce the both of them as 'Dr. Francois Gustav' and 'Dr. Nelson Smith'. Rather than give the two men the proper respect by standing and introducing himself, Eric remained rooted in his current position.

After professional-infused pleasantries were exchanged between the three men, it was Dr. Gustav's turn to speak to Eric. The physician was the person to provide the faction leader with the list of injuries that both Nasira and Lucien were afflicted with, from the attack.

For his wife, she was a victim of five bullet wounds, four of which had swiftly exited her body after she was shot. A bullet was lodged in her small intestine, which was retrieved after a four-hour surgery. It was information that he already knew, but he withheld his tongue from alerting the two doctors.

The other four bullets managed to penetrate her left forearm, pelvis, left shoulder and in her left thigh. The bullet that entered her forearm caused a fracture in her radius and ulna bones, which was the reason for the thick cast. The bullets that struck her thigh and pelvis also caused concern for the physicians, due to the fact that her internal organs and the arteries could've been struck. Nasira was given a run of tests, X-RAYs and a "laparotomy", which was a procedure that needed to be explained to Eric by a willing intern. Fortunately, the exiting bullets left no damage in their wake. The injury to her pelvis was considered to be a "miracle", according to Dr. Gustav, because of the fact that the bullet could've easily puncture any of her vital organs. Next, the lanky physician gave Eric a list of possible after-effects that could affect Nasira in the future, including the chance that she would walk with a moderate-to-severe limp, for the rest of her life.

Eric listened, but inwardly, he prayed that the limping would be the only after-effect that Nasira would endure from this assault. Yet, he knew that his prayer was a foolish one. He was aware that there was going to lasting and unseen wounds that was going to take forever to heal.

After hearing about Nasira's diagnosis and about her recovery, Dr. Gustav had gone on to explain the wounds that affected Lucien's small body. The brave, six-year-old, who put his life on the line in order to warn his mother about the attacker was given a bullet grazing and two bullets to the torso, as a result. The bullet grazing was the most prominent and startling of the wounds, but the easiest injury to treat, according to Dr. Gustav. The bullets that had gone into the child's torso had exited swiftly after impact, but they managed to clip his spleen and his liver. The spleen was too damaged from its wound and it couldn't be rescued, so the surgeons removed it. The liver carried a "superficial" wound and would recover in no time.

Once receiving, Lucien's list of after-care tasks, both physicians gave the husband and the father the promise that they would make another visit before their shifts ended. Then there were more exchanging pleasantries between both doctors and Eric. Afterwards, the two doctors and the small tribe of interns had made their exits from the suite. He continued to lay in Lucien's bed, next to his sleeping son. He stared at the suite's dropped ceiling as he contemplated about everything that he has just heard.

His brain began to become drowned in thoughts of doubt. Doubt for what? Even Eric didn't know what for. He knew that it wasn't about their abilities to recover from their wounds. He believed that they would recover and within the week, they would be discharged from the hospital. But this niggling feeling wouldn't let go.

Feeling as if he was contaminating his son's bed with his negativity, the Dauntless father slipped from the boy's bed and traveled over to the folded up cot that was assigned to him. After assembling the foldable mattress, he decided to try for sleep again. He closed his eyes and was craving for the sleep to come. But, the only things that would come for him were more thoughts and flashbacks from the past weekend.

Eric decided there was no use for the concept of waiting for sleep. Groaning, the leader kicked the thin, hospital-issued blanket from off of his legs. He removed himself from his temporary bed and decided to take in the presented view that was waiting on the other side of the windows. Now, with the suite's lighting diminished down to two small beams of light that were above the patients' beds, he would be able to take in the view. He was able to peep into the countless offices that were in the building that was directly across from the hospital's structure. 'It's not as awesome to look at, when _you're in_ one of the skyscrapers,' his logic told him.

Inexplicably, the statement came in the form of Nasira's voice.

 _"_ _You better not let me fall, Eric, I swear," Nasira threatened him as she continued to climb the rusted ladder. She was a foot ahead of him._

 _"_ _Babe," he snickered. "If you fall, then I would fall, too," he pointed out as he made a glimpse between her ample derriere and a rusty ladder rung._

 _"_ _Well, then I guess you have yourself an initiative, Captain," she joked as she continued to climb._

 _Both husband and wife had grown quiet as they climbed the ladder that was built on a curved side of the unused silo._

 _They were curious about the rusting structure that was a part of Dante's and Trudy's property. It was the first thing that managed to gather both of their attentions after they arrived to the pastoral estate. It was Eric, who've decided to do something with their newfound interest. So, after their dinner with their family, the couple "snuck off" and traipsed across the few hundred yards of field, to visit to the silo. When Eric detected the long, narrowed ladder that was built on a side, he grew another idea. After spending eight minutes persuading his wife to jump aboard with his plan, the two of them set out to climb on top of the large building._

 _"_ _Are you almost there?" Eric asked, eleven minutes later. He was feeling the effects of the extensive ascent to the top. His forearms and legs' muscles were emitting a steady throbbing._

 _"_ _Just… A few more inches, ole fearless leader," she chuckled._

 _Eric unleashed a sardonic chuckle. "Don't make me beat your ass, when we get up there," he friskily threatened._

 _"_ _I would like to see you try, you tree-huggin', banjo-playin' hippie!" she remarked as her fingers curled around the top rung of the ladder._

 _The good-natured husband chuckled as he glimpsed at her ascending form. "You're such a smart a—_

"Knock…"

The faction leader received a shot of adrenaline to his heart as the result of having someone sneak up on him. A sharp inhale was sucked into his mouth.

"…knock," the familiar, feminine voice announced in her usual warm lilt.

His right hand touched the window pane before he was able to turn around. His vision landed on the divine and wholehearted, woman that filled up the doorway to the suite. He noticed, even in the wee hours of morning, she was dressed in an immaculate and stylish fashion. Her statuesque physique was draped in one of her infamous kaftans and a pair of leggings. Her hair was covered in an elaborate head wrap.

"Davina…" he softly greeted as he took a step away from the window. "…I thought that you were coming later on today, with one of the guys," he assumed.

" _Hmph_!" she haughtily groaned. "I grew tired of waiting for the sun to come up. Besides… _I can't sleep_. I tried with one of those… _Sleep aides_ that my doctor prescribed for me and not a damn wink happened," she explained. Then the Grant matriarch took a pair of steps from out of the threshold. Her feet made another round of steps. This time, she capped off their actions with a soft hiss that came from her lips and a wince to her brow, which highlighted the pain that she was feeling.

"Davina!" Eric spewed in a sharp whisper, mindful of the two sleeping patients, as well as, his mother-in-law's reputation for being low-key about her health. Bared feet made a short and swift trek across the suite's carpeted floor, over to the woman's right side. "Davina…" he muttered while his eyes made swift, discerning glimpses to her. "…if you are in—

"Err… _Eric_ … Boy, don't you start with me, honey," she groaned while lightly-scolding him. "I take enough shit from my babies, _including that sleeping one_ , over there. I don't need any more mothering from anybody else," she warned. "Now…" Her chin pointed over to the chair that was positioned in between the two beds. "…help me to that chair, baby. Once I sit down, I'll be fine. It's… My hip. She's been getting testy with me, as of lately," she explained to him.

Eric took her right hand into his own while his left arm gingerly embraced her lower back, for the sake of her injured hip. Then, he proceeded to help his "Ma" walk across the suite, to the straight-back chair that he had taken up, earlier in the night. Once she was settled into the chair, he stood by her side. "Dah—

She cut him off with the sound of her clucking her teeth at him. A scolding.

Eric rolled his eyes. " _Ma_ …" he groaned, feigning annoyance.

"That's better," she stated with an all-knowing smile on her face.

"…Would you like some water?" he asked, with a chuckle stitched to his inquiry.

"Ah, no, baby. Not right now, but thank you for asking."

The faction leader detected that Davina's dark brown eyes were drawn to her daughter's appearance. In her dark orbs, there was a surreal glaze to them, making her irises appear to be black. He figured that she was going through her own case of woe that managed to brew during this past weekend. A twinge of sadness filled his core. He understood the shock and the anguish that she must've been feeling, currently. "Davina?" he murmured, making his sympathy known in his voice.

"Yes, baby?" she murmured, sounding both weak and distracted. She kept her eyes on her sleeping child.

"I'm… I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be back," he announced.

"Alright baby…" Her left hand waved him off. "…you can go right on ahead. Take as much time as you need," she lifelessly told him.

'Oh…Kay,' his brain muttered.

Eric gave her a curt head nod. Then he strolled off to the bathroom. Once inside, the reluctant insomniac doused his bearded face with handfuls of cold water from the sink. He hoped that the cold sensation would spare him a few hours of alertness. Yet, he knew that he wouldn't be of any good use to anybody, especially to Nasira and Lucien, if he didn't get a decent bit of rest. 'Oh my God,' he groaned inwardly. He removed his hands from his face and he came face-to-face with his reflection. He observed the dark pink discoloration from the small pouches of flesh that were underneath the bottom eyelids. His auburn-colored hair stood out against the pale, sickly-looking skin of his face. 'God, Coulter.' His pale lips spewed, "You look like shit". His fingers then rubbed at his eyelids, hoping to revive them with this half-assed massage. 'I haven't looked this bad since…'

 _"_ _Eric?" he heard Nasira call out. The sound of her voice echoed in the cavernous-styled stairwell. "Eric? Are you down…?" The rest of her inquiry was swallowed up by the sounds of the thunderous echoes that came from her feet as they climbed down stairs._

 _Eric didn't bother to look away from his view. He continued to stare at the pair of boots that covered his feet and at the surfaces from the descending stairs that were below. He was immediately reminded of the fact that he was going to sell the footwear, in exchange for a vial of Wept. Then, he was showered with the feeling of remorse and of shame. He was willing to sell his birthday gift, a gift that came from both Nasira and Luke, for the poison that caused all of this grief._

 _Suddenly, there was movement against his shirt-covered torso, which were followed by piercing pain in his left set of ribs. An audible inhale and then a gruff-sounding exhale were his only reactions to being clawed. For the former faction leader, he was at the point where he felt like his whole existence was lure for pain. Those tiny paws with the claws paled in comparison to the symptoms of Wept withdrawal, which he was still enduring._

 _"_ _Eric?"_

 _This time, Nasira was standing behind his seated form, when she called his name. He remained still despite the pain and of her presence._

 _"_ _Are you… Okay?" she queried._

 _'_ _It's more like, "Are you high right now?"' his logic taunted._

 _He could tell that she was trying to hold onto the façade of being neutral. Emotionally stoic, unattached. But her voice told the truth: she was afraid. In his mind, he made-up an image of her as she stood behind him. She was standing there with her arms folded across her chest, right above that big belly of hers and the expression of neutrality etched onto her face._

 _Since becoming a guest in her home, a week ago, he was greeted by the face every time he stared at her. Plus, there was an attitude of stoicism that came along with the facial expression, as well. At first, it was fucking unnerving for him, because it wasn't a display of the 'real Nasira'. It was, like, some nurse-version of a Stepford Wife that had taken her place. She would take care of him and clean up after him while displaying that expression on her face and carrying that attitude. There wasn't any light, fire or warmth in her eyes as she stared at him. There was no sign of joy, anger, passion, sympathy or even sadness in her voice as she spoke to him, either._

 _After a few days passed, the feelings were replaced with the feeling of being highly-irritated. Eric found himself becoming mad, with each of her visits to his assigned bedroom. His mind began to ponder about her hidden intentions behind her acts of stoicism. He began to find even the minor actions to be infuriating and slights towards him. The most re-occurring action, which was considered to be egregious, was the act of being bound to the room that he was staying inside of. The disgraced, former faction leader felt like Nasira was purposely keeping him inside of the room. As if she was ashamed about having his presence in her home. It never occurred to the sickly, recovering addict that he was bound to that bedroom, not because of nefarious motives. But, due to the fact that he was physically-incapable of moving around her apartment, until recently._

 _Once he became able to get around, the Wept addict decided to run away again. He told himself that he was leaving her residence because she was disrespecting him. He couldn't face the truth. He wouldn't be able to handle the feelings of guilt, regret and weakness. Then, there was the sense of inadequacy, which was laying right below the surface._

 _"_ _Eric… Are you okay?" she repeated._

 _He slowly nodded. "Yup-pah!" he slowly enunciated, in a sarcastic tone._

 _An interval of multi-second, silence followed. Eventually, it was disrupted by the sounds of water passing through pipes and the sonorous humming from the basement's furnace, as well as, faint noises from the building's other tenants._

 _"_ _Did you go and get high?" she finally asked of him, as well as, cut through the tension that built up. Once again, Nasira managed to convey her emotions with her voice. She was disappointed in him, but she was also concerned about his well-being._

 _Knowing this factor caused a pang to strike Eric in his chest, dead-center._

 _"_ _Eric? Did you?" her tremulous voice asked him._

 _A tremor sank down into his gut, which began in the same spot that was in his chest, while his guilt began to gnaw at his spirit._

 _"_ _Eric… Did you use any—?_

 _"_ _No," he finally answered. His voice was hard and coarse. He could hear the weakness from him, in his voice. "No, I didn't."_

 _"_ _You're…" Her voice trailed off. There was an audible inhale and exhale from her. "You're not lying to—_

 _"_ _No. No, I'm not," he illustrated._

 _"_ _Err—_

 _Nasira decided to cut herself off, when she decided to re-locate. The tips of her feet slightly grazed his lower back as she initiated her travel. There was another brushing as she climbed down the stairs, seconds later. Then his right shoulder, flank and knee were subjected to one of her grazes as she walked pass him. Once she stood in front of him, she murmured, "Look at me". When the disgraced man wouldn't follow her request, she repeated herself. She received the same reception._

 _Seconds that contained hindrance from him, ticked by. Then, Eric felt a pair of hands on his shrouded shoulders._

 _"_ _Eric… Look at me. Please?" he heard her plead._

 _His hooded head tilted back and his eyes became the subject of her interest. He quickly scanned her features. He noticed that the icy façade wasn't present. His gaze returned to her eyes just in time to see that question popped up into them._

 _'_ _Have you used?'_

 _"_ _No," his lips spewed. "Nass… I'm tellin' you the truth."_

 _And he was. But it didn't mean that Eric didn't make an attempt to score a vial of Wept. After all, he did sneak out of her home and tried to find a peddler. He wouldn't have cared about the brand of Wept, it could've been a red vial, a purple or a green vial. Just as long that product managed to do its job, which was to stop the pain, both the physical and the spiritual aches._

 _His feet, in their brand new boots, did beat the pavements of Dauntless in search of a distributor, who was willing to accumulate a new customer. He briefly patron a few well-known pubs that held the reputation of selling Wept, in search of a vial. His mission was unsuccessful. The dealers that he did interact with had eyed him with suspicion before they turned him away. At his final bar visit, the dealer accused him of being an undercover police officer that was on a sting. Realizing that he was making dangerous risks by being there, he swiftly left. Then, he toured the streets in The Pit, in search of a dealer, but he couldn't find one loitering around._

 _When wandering the streets, the disgraced Dauntless soldier was cruelly reminded of the fact that he was about to sell his brand new pair of boots. A gift that came from the woman that he loved and from their child. A symbol, a sign, of love and of her concern for him. Then, there was the obvious fact: he didn't have a back-up pair of boots with him, so he was willing to walk the streets of Dauntless, in the winter weather, barefoot. All for a vial of Wept._

 _"_ _So, you didn't used?" she asked._

 _"_ _No! I didn't use! What are you, fuckin' deaf?!" Eric snarled. His ire was rising. The pain was making him feeling cranky and short-tempered. 'She… She doesn't fuckin' understand,' his conscience concluded, bitterly. 'Fuckin'… Everything… It just hurts. My head feels—_

 _"_ _Make me understand, then," Nasira asked of him. The tone in her voice conveyed several feelings. Fatigue. Anger. Slight resignation. Concern. Pity. "Make me understand, Eric, because… Truth be told, I don't know-fucking-anything, right now! I… I don't know how you could still want that shit after everything that has happened to you! You have practically lost everything! You've…"She hung her right fist out in front of her. Her pinky finger extended, from out of the cluster of digits. "…lost your fucking title! You're not a leader anymore, Eric!" Her ring finger shot out. "You've lost both of your homes!" Then, her middle finger revealed itself. "You've lost your reputation! And before you even flap that lip of yours and lie to me: yes, you do care about your reputation, cos, you wouldn't have worked so-fucking-hard in order to be a got-damned leader!" Her index finger was next. "You… L-Lost… Your girl-girlfriend," she stammered. She glimpsed away from his penetrating stare. Her fist fell away and her hand had gone back to her side, where it gave her hip a few rubs. A wave of tension came from her form. Along with a sense of sadness that was powerful and not ignorable. "You…" she said softly. The fire that was in her voice, minutes ago, was missing. "…Y-You lost… M-Me."_

 _Eric heard the blatant insecurity in her tone, after she referred to herself. His cobalt-blue, red-tinted eyes gave her body a perusal. He took note that she was dressed in a state of extreme comfort, as well as, had her divergence on full-display. She wore a large white tee-shirt and a pair of leggings that were bright in color and whimsical. On her head, was one of her unusual hats that she slept with. Eyes found their way back to her face. He saw that she had the corner of her bottom lip in her mouth. There was the urge to kiss those beautiful lips._

 _"_ _I… I didn't, Nass. Honestly, I didn't," he confessed._

 _The statement wasn't supposed to be the first thing to come from his mouth. Eric didn't want to address the subject of his possible relapse. He wanted to dispute her claim; the one that laid hidden in plain-sight, behind her 'Me' comment. Eric wanted to tell her that he loved her. Yes, he still carried that torch for her. He wanted to be with her, both beside and inside of her. But, he knew that this time was inappropriate to make such declarations. Plus, it would've been disrespectful towards her. She wanted to talk about his activities, the hours that he was roaming the streets. Also, she wanted to use this time for Eric to earn her faith and trust again._

 _So, yes, telling her about his feelings would've been disrespectful-as-fuck, according to the former leader._

 _"_ _I didn't, Nass…" His head began to slowly shake. "…I didn't. I'mma be honest: I wanted to. I-I-I did-did go out to buy some Wept. I did. I…" His lips subtly flapped. "…I just…" Embarrassment flooded his spirit. "…You don't under—_

 _"_ _Then, help me understand," she asked of him, now glaring at him with teary eyes._

 _Eric's eyes stung with unshed tears as he stared at her and her glossy face. A gruff and clumsy exhale came from his mouth, blowing out his cheeks. He couldn't stare at her. Not while he was about to confess. It felt wrong for him. So, he peered down at his feet again. He took in a slow inhale and even slower exhale before he spoke up again. "I…I…" He paused, again. 'Go ahead,' his instinct encouraged, 'go ahead'. He nodded his head, feeling strength once more. "It… It just fuckin' hurts, Nass," he confessed._

 _"_ _What hurts, Eric?" Her hands clasped his bearded cheeks in a gentle hold. "Tell me," she politely requested, just as her thumbs began to caress his face._

 _The gentle swipes from her thumbs caused pleasurable tingles to form, which formed in his skin and then spread to his ears and to his scalp. 'Got…Damn,' his brain groaned while his lips actually produced one._

 _"_ _Tell me, Eric," she requested._

 _'_ _Go on,' his instinct told him. Sensing no malevolence from her, he decided to oblige her. His nostrils made an inhale and then as his exhale spilled out, he spoke. "Everything hurts," he clarified. "Things are… Too loud. Too bright. My…Stomach hurts. My fuckin' head… The pain. It never stops. It never takes a fuckin' break. I become cold, one minute and then it feels like I am in sauna, the next minute. My…" He groaned, "…skin" with disgust laced in his voice. "…It feels like it is being scraped off with a fuckin' cheese grater, every time I touch something. I—_

 _"_ _Oh!" she squeaked._

 _Eric, then, felt that gentle and pleasurable set of tingles abruptly disappear._

 _"_ _I'm sorry for touch—_

 _His eyes snapped open just as his hands swiftly snagged her retreating hands. There was a soft squeak of surprise from her. He peered at her face as he brought her captured hands to his face. He brought his lips to the captured bounty that he was holding onto. Chaste kisses were doled out to her fingers' knuckles and then to her palms._

 _"_ _Don't," he whispered against the back of her left set of fingers, a moment later. Eyes peered at Nasira's face and then noticed their widening state and the sheen that covered the orbs' surfaces. "They didn't hurt me," he clarified, speaking about her hands' caresses. Then, his hands carefully lowered her hands away from his lips. He kept a firm hold on her hands as he rested them on his knees. "They didn't hurt me," he pointed out again. He exhaled loudly. "Everything, Nass… The withdrawal… It makes everything hurts. I… I left, because I need to make this stop." He took a pause in his clarification. "Do you understand?"_

 _As he stared at his son's mother, he desired that she wouldn't judge him too harshly for his selfish act._

 _Nasira took a breath. Then, she made her response. "Up… Upstairs, I have a bottle of atropine. You can take this for the upset stomach. I also have a pantry filled with cans of soups and a few boxes of saltines, which are still good. I had them since my last pregnancy. If you can't keep that down, then we'll try the electrolyte supplements that belongs to Luke, then. We'll use them until we're able to get you to a doctor and they can look at you. In regards to your skin sensitivity, ummm… I am going to take a shot in the dark by saying that you don't have to wear any clothes, around the house. You can walk around in your boxers. It's okay. I don't have much company anyway, so you don't have to worry about being indecent. It's just me and Luke. And you know Luke… He loves to walk around in just his Pampers anyway. So, he'll have some company, now." She stopped to giggle. "Ahhh… I have a bottle of Bay Rum…"_

 _'_ _Bay… Rum?'_

 _She noticed the quizzical look on his face. "It's something that you put on after you take a shower. It helps with skin irritations. Trust me. Ummm… For your headaches…" Her face took on an expression of contemplation. Then she was struck with insight. Her face quickly changed into a look of reluctance. A groan escaped her. "God forgive me," she mumbled. "I…have a bottle of hydrocodone…"she confessed to him._

 _Eric's brow maintained the deep crease, highlighting his confusion over the products that she was mentioning._

 _"…_ _which my doctor prescribed to me…"_

 _'_ _Oh. Drugs. Pain-killers, most definitely.'_

 _"…_ _which is still good." Her captured, right hand rose in the air. "But… I am willing to give you some pills… Only. On. My. Terms, Eric." With every word's enunciation, her raised, captured hand lightly struck his knee, emphasizing the severity of her terms and conditions. "I refuse to help you become addicted to those pain-killers. So, I am going to keep those pills on me, at all times, because… And, I am going to tell you the truth: I don't trust you with them, Eric."_

 _'_ _Understandable,' his conscience concluded. Yet, his spirit did feel the fringes of shame. Eric slowly nodded his head._

 _Nasira unleashed a shaky breath. Her lips performed a watered-down smile. "To help with the headaches and your light and noise sensitivities, you can move into my studio. It's the only room that doesn't have central air and you can open and close the windows, whenever you become hot and cold. I also have some curtains and shades in there, so you can block out the light, too." Her chin slightly tilted to the ceiling. A gleam exploded in her eyes. "But… I also have another idea on how you can handle the noise and all of the racket that you hear in this godforsaken city…"_

 _Eric continued to stare at her._

 _"…_ _How do you feel about staying in Dauntless Village, in my family's old house? You know… The house, where we had Luke's and my mother's birthday party? It's far different than the main parts of Dauntless. It's a cross between Dauntless and Amity, in my opinion. It has Dauntless people, but it's quiet and open like Amity. I think that you'll like it. 'Monument Way', my old block, is quiet. There are kids and they play outside, but once night comes, they go home. My neighbors are sweet and… Neighborly. But they keep to themselves and they mind their business. Plus, it gets you away from… Here. And something tells me that this is something that you really want to do, Eric. Sooo… What do you think about it?"_

 _Eric's brow crumpled while his eyes displayed his sense of confusion. "By myself?"_

 _"_ _Nooo!" she lightly chuckled. "With me and Luke," she explained. She peered down at her stomach. "Oh yeah." She looked up to Eric. "And the baby, of course." She smiled. "So?"_

 _"_ _What…? What about your job? How… How are you going to—?_

 _"_ _Two hours, tops. One hour to get to work and one hour to get home. If the traffic is bad, then I'll just go to work late. No biggie, Eric. So… What do you say?"_

 _'_ _It's a way… To get away,' his logic told him._

 _'_ _You'll disappoint… Like you always do,' his doubt whispered into his ears._

 _A different kind of feeling filled him. Eric looked away from her and his sight landed on his knees, on their joined hands. 'I can't… I wa-want to. I want to,' he secretly confessed._

 _Eric, then, became a spectator to their hands' movements as she took control of them. Nasira pulled their joined hands up and made them clasp her bulging belly. He eyed the appendages and the slivers of her shirted, stomach as it twitched and rippled. His palms and fingers also felt their unborn daughter's movements. A sharp inhale pushed passed his parted lips and invaded his mouth, before being trapped in the back of his throat. Surprise and awe touched his spirit. His eyes slightly widened, showcasing his sense of surprise._

 _"_ _I believe Zola is saying that it's a great idea and you should say 'yes' to my proposition. So… What do you say, Eric?"_

 _He looked at Nasira. 'I… I shouldn't. I shouldn't do this… I can't fuck this up. I'm going to fuck this up. I shouldn't do this,' he quietly uttered._

 _But his instinct was being contrary, when it came to the new living proposal. 'Go. Go. Go. Go…' His body even reacted. Excitement led to his belly to grow alight with a fire. Nasira's idea caused his flesh to grow hot and to buzz underneath the surface._

 _"_ _Yes."_

 _The one-word, answer came from his mouth in a rushed breath. But he was loud and clear for her ears to hear. Eric never been so sure about anything within these past four months, except for this moment. 'God help us,' he prayed. He glanced at Nasira's eyes. He was met with warmth and acceptance._

 _"_ _When do you want to go?" she queried, with a ghost of a smile on her lips._

 _"_ _It's… It's up to you really," his voice croaked._

 _"_ _Well… There's this Friday night," she suggested. "I've taken the whole day off because I have a doctor's appointment in the morning. All I need to do is get some things together and then we can go."_

 _Eric, still feeling a twinge of insecurity about the living arrangement, nodded his head. She responded with a subtle head nod._

 _Nasira slipped her hands from off of his and she placed another soft hold to his cheeks and jaw. There was an affectionate caress from the pads of her thumbs. She was gifted with a family of gravelly whimpers from her son's and unborn daughter's father. She softly smiled. "Somewhere, underneath all of this pain, hurt and the other negative stuff… There's a good man, there, Eric Coulter," she stated softly._

 _A deep, rosy blush crawled to the surface of his skin, after hearing her declaration. His eyelids closed over his orbs to keep the tears at bay. "No," he whimpered. "No, I'm not," he disagreed, with his voice sounding hoarse._

 _"_ _Well, I disagree," she disputed._

 _A disapproving moan came from his lips as his head dipped forward. A second later, he felt her warm and soft fingers against the back of his neck. Fingertips provided a massage. Then, there was the sensation of soft and heated lips against the outer shell of his left ear. His ear and cheek were showered with soft and warm air._

 _"_ _You're a got-damned, good man, Eric," she repeated. "You're a good man, who… Smells like a cat?"_

 _'_ _Oh,' his brain chirped as remembrance struck him, about the two tenants that were living in his zippered, sweat suit jacket._

 _"_ _Eric, why do you smell like a cat?" she asked, chuckling._

 _"_ _Ah… Um…" Eric proceeded to lift his head. He felt her hands rub against the back of his neck as they began to lift away. "…I… I, um…" Once he was sitting upright, his fingers were drawn to the front closure of his jacket. "…got something. It's…" His index finger grabbed the tip of the metal slider and then began to pull the slider down the zipper's tracks. "…something. I know that-that it's spur-of the-moment, but I saw…"_

 _"_ _What did you bring me?" Nasira asked with her smiling lips and as her hands came to rest of her belly._

 _Eric's callused fingers pulled the slider down the silver tracks. His right set of fingers shook the left flap of his jacket. A millisecond later, Nasira received her answer, when a small multi-colored kitten's head popped out, from the jacket's interior._

 _"_ _Aahhh…" Nasira gasped in surprise._

 _A smile touched his lips, when he saw the expression of surprise on her face. He glanced down at the small animal. "I found them—_

 _"'_ _Them'?!" she murmured. "There's—_

 _"_ _Two," he answered. "There's two of them…"_

 _The small critter looked up at Nasira and released a soft mewl. Then it teetered down Eric's thick thigh to his left kneecap. It stood on its hind legs and paws, placing their front paws on Nasira's swollen stomach. The kitten's snout sought after Nasira's scent from off of her shirt._

 _"…_ _The other…" Eric's voice trailed off. He looked at his chest again. "The other one is in my…" Hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket before proceeding to remove the item from off of his brawny frame. "…jacket's sleeve," he reported. His left hand shirked the left sleeve from off of his appendage. Then he tenderly removed the right sleeve from off of him. His hands ran along the length of the sleeve's exterior, in search of the sleeping kitten that he knew was inside. "I found them. I…" He paused. 'Tell her the truth, Eric,' his conscience instructed. He took a breath, to chase away the reluctance. "After I had gone on my search… To look for the Wept and I decided not to get it… On my way back here, I was about to walk past an abandoned car that was on a side street, not too far from here. I heard one of them cry out from inside. I don't know why I stopped. I don't usually stop for shit like this. But I did. They…" Once he gathered an idea of the cat's location, he stuck his right hand inside of the sleeve. A second later, his investigating appendage produced a small ball of soft fur. He brought the huddled cat to his lap. Then he glanced over to Nasira, who was now cradling the mewling kitten in her hands. "…were the only ones that were alive. I found… One…In the street. Someone ran it over and didn't bother to check on it, I'm guessing. I looked for their mother and I couldn't find her. So, I don't know if she abandoned them or if she died herself."_

 _"_ _Oh noooo…" Nasira softly bemoaned as she nuzzling the now-purring, cat._

 _"_ _I don't why I couldn't leave them there," he stated, more to himself than to her._

 _'_ _You know why…' His conscience told him. 'They reminded you of…'_

 _Fragmented flashes of memories appeared in front of his mind's eye. Memories of Francis and of himself as they wandered around Hoss Avenue, searching for Deborah's kind friend, Margaret, who rented an apartment on the block. Both brothers knew that they had to rely on their memories about the apartment building's appearance, in order to find her. As his frightened eyes peered at buildings' facades, Eric held onto the hope that she would allow them to stay the night. Their mother forced them from the apartment as she undergone a raging fit._

 _As he recalled walking those snow-covered streets, his fingertips began to grow numb as if they were still being exposed to the frigid weather._

 _"_ _If these babies…"_

 _Nasira's voice pulled him out from the sea of recollection. With clear eyes, he stared at his beloved._

 _"…_ _would've stayed out in this weather longer, then they would've froze to death," she broadcasted. She aimed the tip of her nose to the cat's nose. "What should I name them?"_

 _"_ _You're keeping them?" Despite knowing this woman's good-nature, he was surprised that she was willing to be these kittens' caretaker._

 _"_ _Mmm-hmm," she hummed as she gently nodded her head. "I always wanted cats. And dogs, too. But my dad was allergic to them," she explained. Her nose nuzzled the animal's side. "I had to settle for Goliath's pet goldfishes. But, nothing beats having dogs and cats." She stroked the cat's flank. "So… Any name suggestions?"_

 _Eric stared at the cat that was on his lap. "I… I'm not good with these kind of things," he chuckled. "So, that's up to you."_

 _"_ _Okay," she chirped. "Mmmm…" she hummed. A frown touched her face while she contemplated. "We're going to need some names that are Dauntless-worthy. Something that screams 'Bad-assed, killing machines'." A few seconds later, enlightenment crossed her face. "Oh! I know!" She held the kitten up to her face. "How about… Cah—_

"Did you fall asleep in there, baby?" Davina asked, distracting him from his thoughts.

Eric returned to reality and was welcomed by his reflection from the bathroom's mirror. He eyed the discolored bags that were hanging underneath his eyes. "God… _I really_ do look like shit," he murmured. He turned his head to the bathroom's doorway. "I'm alright, Davina," he called out.

" _What happened?!_ You caught that haggard reflection of yours and you were frozen in fear, _Medusa_?!" quipped Davina before her voice withered down into a series of chuckles.

A lopsided smirk appeared on his lips. He glared at his reflection. "I'll be out in a second," he reported.

"It's alright, baby. You take your time," she announced.

The faction leader had used up another minute in the bathroom, before he made his exit. When he entered the suite, he came upon the sight of Davina standing next to Nasira's bed. Her glassy eyes were staring down at her resting and recovering child. The older woman's fingers were caressing Nasira's right set of fingers. He found it to be odd, at first, for a split second. Then, he noticed the soft luster that came off of his wife's skin. He picked up the appearance of a colorful, plastic tube of hand cream, atop Nasira's right thigh.

"You know that my baby hates having ashy hands," Davina quipped while stating a fact.

Eric performed a gentle smile as he reflected on this fact. It was the thing that drew his attention to Nasira's left hand, initially, earlier in the night. He gazed at his wife.

"Did you know that 'Nasira' means 'helper' in the old Muslim customs?" Davina suddenly announced, interrupting as well as smothering the silence that permeated through the room.

"No," he breathed as he stared at his mother-in-law.

"Yeah, it does… Her _daddy_ gave her that name…" Davina stared at her son-in-law. "…He said that it meant some things to him. He said that he wanted to give her a name that was a 'thank you' to his ancestors' old faith, before the Great War. And, he wanted to give her a name that described just how much she helped him, _even before she was born_. He said that there was something special about his ' _baby girl'_ that got him out of that… _state_ that he was in, after being rescued from The Badlands. So, he named her ' _Nasira'_ because she was his helper," she explained. She returned her glare to her daughter. "I believed in him, then. Still do." She gingerly placed Nasira's hand down. "Nasira has definitely fulfilled the promise of her name…" She looked over to Eric again. "…I know that you're well aware of that one," she lightly chuckled.

Eric, too, lightly chuckled.

"My baby… _The helper_ ," murmured Davina as she stared at her daughter. A measured exhale escaped her. "I remember of an incident… Nasira had to be three… Or, _four_ years old, at the time. I know that I was still pregnant with Rogue, at the time. Well anyway… I had gone to Amity to visit family. The whole family came along. On this one particular day, I had taken Nassy with me to go visit my sister, Claire, at her farm. Meanwhile, Goliath Senior took our knuckle-head boys on a fishing trip with my brothers. At that time, my sister Claire had a dog. It was one of those…" She paused in her story-telling. A mask of contemplation overtook her face. Her right hand raised mid-air and proceeded to gather air as if it contained clues. "What's…? What's the name of them dogs that are made in Erudite?" She looked to Eric. "Eric, baby, you know which ones that I am talking about? The dogs that are clones of the original, fancy breeds from hundreds of years ago? The ones that were bred and sold—you know…? Those _real expensive_ dogs? What's the proper name for them?"

Eric knew. He nodded his head while in his mind, he was swiftly reminded of a brief history of the genetically-modified, Regen Dogs. They were 'designer dogs' that were bred in Erudite and sold to the public. The dogs were very popular amongst the wealthy, rich and the 'new money' communities from four of the five factions. "The Regen Dogs," he informed her.

Davina snapped her fingers and then pointed her right index finger at him. " _Yes! That's it! 'The Regen Dogs'!_ That was the kind of dog that she had. It was a Regen Dog…" She nodded her head as she returned her gaze to Nasira. "She had a Regen Dog," she said softly.

"My…Mother… When I was a kid, she asked my father for a Regen Dog. She _really_ wanted a Pomeranian," he told his mother-in-law.

He, then, reminisced about the rage-filled, temper tantrum that Deborah threw and the physical outburst that happened, after Raymond told her that he couldn't afford to gift her with the dog. He could've bought the Pomeranian, but not without having the entire family undergo acts of starvation or running the risk of homelessness, because he had to forgo the mortgage payments. To help to shake off the bad memory, Eric asked, "What kind of dog did Claire have?"

"Ahhhh… It was one of those small breed of poodles that never grew bigger than the size of a bread box," she notified the young man. "She had a… _bee-youuu-tiff-full_ dog, Eric!" She glanced over at Eric as she lightly giggled. "I remember, whenever Claire would take her _Nippy_ outside and take him for walks, she wouldn't get far without having someone approach her and pet her dog. And when my sister would dress that dog up in little outfits or with these tiny bows in her hair… Men, women and children would always stop Claire and ask her if they could touch her poodle. And Nippy, her dog, would _looovvveee_ the attention. That damn little bitch would preen and perform little tricks in front of people. Claire loved that dog…" Davina glanced down at Nasira. "Anyway, I had taken Nasira to my sister's place. Me and Claire got into it, so we were busy with our gossip to the point where we weren't paying attention to Nassy. While we were catching up, _Little Miss Thing_ , here…" Davina softly pointed over to Nasira. "…waddled into the kitchen and had gone over to Nippy's food bowl…" She tossed Eric a knowing look. "…while Nippy was eating from her bowl…"

The hairs that graced his forearms and the back of his neck stood up while chills caused goose-pimples to run across his flesh. ' _Oh,_ ' Eric quietly hummed.

"…We didn't know until it was too late, of course. When I heard my baby scream out like that… _Eric_ …" Davina released a shaking breath.

"What happened?" he asked, totally involved in her story.

" _Nippy_ …She bit into Nassy's hand, her left hand, and mangled it, pretty bad," she told her son-in-law. "There was so much blood…"

A snippet of a bloodied and crying, Nasira flashed in his mind.

"…You would've thought that she lost her hand and didn't gain a bite instead. Well, the way that _I_ carried on, you would've thought it," she mildly joked. "We ended up taking my crying child and my hysterical ass to a neighbor's house, Doc Jackson's place. He examined Nassy's left hand and determined that she needed stitches in her hand. Twelve stitches, if I remember correctly." She grabbed onto Nasira's right hand. "Claire felt so bad… _So-so bad_ about everything. I told her that it was an accident. Nippy was a dog and she was relying on her instincts."

Eric viewed the older Grant woman as she grazed Nasira's hand. "What did Dauntless Leader Grant think about it?" he asked, still watching the act of affection play out.

Davina snorted. "Honey, if looks could kill, then I would've died on the spot. Goliath was _soooo_ angry at me for being neglectful with Nassy and that damn dog. I think I have spent _years_ afterwards, apologizing to him, even when _Nassy was a teenager_!" She chuckled. "But, he was right, though. I should've been mindful of Nassy's whereabouts. I also should've took her concern about things, seriously, as well. As… The days flew by, I grew angry. I grew angry towards Nippy; towards a… _Damned dog_!" She released a dry, joyless chuckle. "I knew that I shouldn't have been angry at such a… _Insignificant, little bitch_. But, I was."

The husband detected a change in his mother-in-law's energy. The warmth and the softness from her had disappeared without warning. Now, in its place was hardness and coldness. Her voice has also changed amongst the storytelling. The joyful lilt was gone and has gone flat, as well as, cold.

His lips parted and then closed. He decided not to speak.

"I had Goliath kill that bitch," confessed Davina. Her voice was still deep and rich in tone, but there was a sense of glee and pride entwined each syllable from every word.

A strong chill attached itself to Eric's skin and caused shivers to run along his skin. His stomach had pulsated while his chest felt as if his lungs were being pressed down by a weight.

The pair of familiar, dark brown eyes stared into his blue-hued ones, and according to Eric, into his soul as well. "I… _Goliath_ … He had gone _all-the-way_ down to Amity, late at night. He knew that no one would notice his appearance amongst them. He had taken that bitch across Claire's field to my other sister's place… _Lila's place_..."

Eric immediately thought of the appearance that belonged to Davina's second-oldest sister. The phantom scent of chewing tobacco plugged up his nostrils as he thought about the naturally-gruff, older woman.

"…You've never been to Lila's place. _Just Claire's_ …" Those dark brown eyes turned away from Eric. "…She… Lila… Has a running and operating farm. That's her bread and butter, right there. But, as a… I guess that you can call it a _passion_ of hers, Lila also breeds domestic pigs… _Hogs_ , if we want to be technical. She got that love of pigs from our father." She looked at Eric and gifted the young man with an odd gaze. "Did you know that pigs, if you were to _starve_ them for…Let's say… For about a week…They can go through slop within less than a minute? Especially the mama-pigs, while they're still nursing their piglets. Just like…" Her fingers snapped. The suite's atmosphere picked up the sound and made it into an echo. "…that!" she announced at the same time of the finger-snap. "My daddy used to own a few hogs, when I was a kid. Being that there were a lot of rough times for us, when it came to money, my mama rationed stuff out and budgeted the best that she could. The pigs' feedings were one of those things. She wanted to sell them off… _Cook them_ and sell the meats. But she knew that my father would've killed her, if she did… _Literally_. So… she budgeted. There were times, where they would go days without food. I remember when we used to feed them after they would go through a fast. It wasn't safe for me to be around their pen, during feeding time. We're talking about animals that were over two-hundred pounds and _can grow into the size of a Volkswagen Beetle_! I could've easily fallen into their pen and get killed! They would…" Davina unleashed a gust of breath, in amazement. "When they would run over to their feeding trough… _The ground would shake_! Like, it would shake like there was _an earthquake_!"

"So… What you're saying is…your husband had taken your sister's dog and fed it… To your _other sister's_ pigs?" Eric asked, with part reluctance and part disbelief. The faction leader felt reluctant to ask the inquiry due to whatever answer that was going to come out of his mother-in-law's mouth. Then there was the sense of disbelief. He didn't want to believe that this woman, this kind-hearted and feisty woman, would have her husband kill her sister's lap dog, by feeding it to hungry pigs.

Davina took an audible breath and on the exhale, stated, "Yes. Mmm-hmm". She looked down at her daughter again. "The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family. So, I took care of her. I had Goliath take her down to Lila's farm and toss her inside of the hogs' feeding pen. He couldn't just toss her in, though… _Believe it or not_ …" She glanced at her son-in-law. "… He had to shave her down. Remove her hair. Then, he just… _Cut her fingertips off_ …"

A slight wince took over Eric's protruding brow.

"…The hogs… To help them with their digestive tracts, when you feed them other animals instead of the feed, it's best to shave the animals' hair off. You also have to take off whatever fingernails there is on the animal, too. Plus, there needs to be the removal of the teeth as well. So… Goliath had _a lot to do_ before he chucked that bitch into the pen. But he did it."

"So, what happened to your sister? _Claire_ , I mean? Did she wonder about her dog's whereabouts?"

" _Yeee-ahh_ , she did," Davina sighed. "She, uh, looked for the poodle on the next day. She assumed that Nippy, somehow, managed to get out of the house while she was hanging the laundry on the line. She looked for the dog, for a couple of days. But then she stopped after she heard there were some coyote sightings, from a neighbor. So, she assumed that her dog was killed by a coyote. She was sad about it, _of course_. But then Teddy had gone out and bought her a new Regen Dog. This time, it was a Golden Retriever puppy that she ended up naming "Bella," after that character from that famous book. Then it became all about Bella. She ended up having that dog until it died of old age." Davina smiled and then snickered.

Once again, the sounds from a conversation died out and a wave of silence floated into the room. Both leader and his mother-in-law ended up staring at Nasira and listening to the 'white noise' that came from the heart monitors.

The episode of stillness was abruptly ruined by the sounds of a cell phone's ringing. A high-pitched, mechanical rendition of Antonio Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" filled the suite's atmosphere while alerting both Dauntless members of its presence.

"Ah, my phone," Davina chirped.

Eric watched the refined woman fetch her phone from a pocket that was attached to her kaftan. Then, he viewed her fingers power up the phone.

Davina's mouth released a warm, " _Hey, baby_!" as soon as she placed the earpiece to her right ear. "Can you hang on for a second? Y-Yeah… I have to— _exactly, sweetie_! So… Okay." She took the phone away from her right ear and she used her left palm to cover over the phone's mouthpiece. She looked over to Eric. In a hushed voice, "Eric, I need to take this phone call, but I'll be right back."

The faction leader nodded his head and mouthed "Okay".

His mother-in-law gifted him with a smile and then she made her way out of the Intensive Care Unit's suite.

Eric stared at her retreating form and at the tail of her kaftan as it billowed in the breeze, until the frosted glass door got in his way. Once alone, his eyes found their way over to his wife and he fixed her with a wide-eyed gaze. 'Oh. My. God,' his mind released in astonishment while his pursed lips unleashed a robust amount of breath. " _Baby_ … _Your mom_ … She even _scared_ me!" His nostrils took in oxygen before he broke down into a low laugh. He glanced at the door and then back at her. " _Oh my God,"_ he murmured with awe fastened to his voice and as his right palm slapped down onto the top of his head. "Oh my God," he repeated before unleashing another soft laugh.

His feet led him to the left side of Nasira's bed, where he proceeded to sit on the edge, close to the thick, plastic railing. "I have to say, though…" His left hand reached out for her resting left hand, which was on her stomach.

Once his large paw captured her smaller hand, he was mildly struck with nostalgia. Her hand, at that moment, felt like _her hand_. It felt like the hand that he was so used to touching. Both of his hands ended up cupping hers, in gratitude.

"…Despite showing me just how… _Scary and protective_ , she can be… You're lucky to have your mom. In fact…You have so many people looking out for you." His eyes glimpsed at the door and then they returned their observation to her. "I just had a _highly-decorated soldier_ tell me that _you're like a sister to him_. Baby, you have all of these people looking…"

 _"…_ _Nippy…She bit into Nassy's hand, her left hand, and mangled it, pretty bad…"_

"...out for…"

 _Eric peered at the black and bold ink that came from the vintage tattoo gun's needles. His ears listened to the harmonious stream of buzzing that came from the tiny engine. His eyes peeled their attention away from the tattoo site and peered down at the smooth brown skin that covered the back of her hand. The veins made a brief appearance by pressing into the skin._

 _"_ _You're taking it better than I thought, babe," Eric commented._

His lips continued to speak, but Eric's eyes narrowed as his brow developed a crease. 'What…?'

 _"…_ _bit into Nassy's hand, her left hand, and mangled it, pretty bad… Doc Jackson's place. He examined Nassy's left hand and determined that she needed stitches in her hand. Twelve stitches…"_

 _"_ _Err-Ric," Nasira sleepily groaned halfway into her pillow. "Leave me alone," she slurred. Her left hand sluggishly waved him off._

 _"_ _Nass…" The corners of his mouth turned upwards to form a tight-lipped smile that was chock full of mischief. The tips of his blunt fingers found their way to the bridge of her nose. "…Nass…Nass…Nass…Nass…" As he tenderly chanted her nickname, his fingertips took a stroll down the soft slope that made up her nose. "…Nass… Nass-Nass-Nass-Nass-Nass-Nass—_

 _A firm and strong slap was given to his teasing fingers. With a yawning sigh escaping her nose, she turned her face into the fluffy pillow and rubbed it along the surface a few times. Then she turned to face her annoyingly playful husband. Her eyes lazily fell open to a squint and then into a half-mast stance. She held a glassy glare in her eyes and it was aimed towards her bed-mate. "Err… Ric… If you… If you don't let me stay asleep… I swear… I am going to kill you," she grumbled, her voice was deep and caked with sleep._

 _Eric snickered before lowering his face down to hers and then doling her right temple with a kiss. His left hand grabbed a hold of her now-resting, left hand. Merry, blue eyes glanced at the brown, smooth skin—_

 _"…_ _bit into Nassy's hand, her left hand, and mangled it, pretty bad… she needed stitches in her hand. Twelve stitches…"_

'Waa-Wait… Wait a minute,' his brain whimpered, while his spirit felt a sense of wrongness. '…Wait a minute… She…' Eric's aimed his befuddled gaze down to his hands. '…has smooth hands… Smooth hands…' His right hand trembled as it was scrutinized by his glowering. '…She has smooth hands. No scars. No scars. No…' With a great level of averse, the larger and scar-decorated hand lifted away and off of Nasira's captured hand. Eyes peered down at the smaller, brown hand.

 _"…_ _she needed stitches in her hand. Twelve stitches…"_

'No… She doesn't,' his brain concluded as his eyes continued to review her hand. 'No, she doesn't…' His fingers initiated an investigation against her left hand. They began to search for a physical sign. Fingertips ran caressing sweeps against the unmarred, cinnamon-hued skin, in search for subtle pivots or dips in the thick layer of flesh. Meanwhile, his eyes scoured the flesh's appearance for the obvious signs of worn-down, keloid scars and for discolorations against the surface. '…No, there's nothing. There's nothing on her hand. There's nothing. Noth—

 _"…_ _She had a… bee-youuu-tiff-full dog, Eric! And Nippy, her dog, would looovvveee the attention. That damn little bitch would preen and perform little tricks in front of people… I knew that I shouldn't have been angry at such a… Insignificant, little bitch…"_

Eric's keen, observant sight continued to pour over Nasira's hand, the topic of Davina's interesting and horrifying tale. The callused, pads from his fingertips still searched for mild divots in the skin. 'Davina said…'

'… _bit into Nassy's hand, her left hand, and mangled it, pretty bad… she needed stitch—_

"I see that…"

The sudden eruption of Davina's voice caused a spike of fright to stab at Eric's spirit. A soft, low gasp escaped from his mouth just as a flinch caused him to slightly lift from his seat. Both of his hands lost their grasps on Nasira's hand, which ended up crashing against the top of Eric's left thigh. Meanwhile, his head whipped upwards and his wide eyes focused on the suite's exit.

"…you've managed to figure it out," the Grant matriarch expressed as she stood in the doorway.

'Fig… _Figured out_ , what?' he silently questioned. His eyes filled up with a quizzical glare as he viewed his mother-in-law. 'Davina… What's going on?'

To Eric, if someone told him that there was a clone of Davina, or, an identical twin that belonged to the woman, then he would've believed that he was currently talking to her. The woman that stood in the doorway of the suite was _not Davina Grant_ , he believed. This person carried a void, when it came to energy and aura. There was nothing there that reminded Eric of the woman that was dear to him.

"It was hard…" Davina tilted her head back and she began to peep into the corridor that was behind her. Her head turned to her left and she peered into the west side of the wing.

'Is she expecting someone?' Eric silently pondered.

Then there was another head turn, to her right side. This time, her gaze veered into the east side of the wing. "…to…" she murmured, sounding almost disinterested.

'Dah… Vina?'

Her voice took on a pause as she peered into the east side of the long corridor. She concentrated on the unseen activity that was happening. She carried on for close to a minute and was wordless during the entire observation.

This action, along with the multiple previous actions that came from Nasira's mother, concerned the faction leader. "Davina?" he called out. He watched those dark, practically-black orbs focus on him. "Are you…? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered. She gave the corridor's east wing another glance and then she stood upright. She stared over to her son-in-law. "I've never felt better," she further explained. Then, she entered the suite, making sure the glass door closed behind her. "As I was saying…" she started out as she stared at the glass pane. She turned to Eric. "…We had a difficult time getting her out of the city…" She pressed her back against the left post of the doorframe. Her sleeved arms put on a casual display as they folded against her chest. "…but we… We managed," she cryptically informed him.

' _What_? _Who_? Who's ' _her'_?' The crease in Eric's brow ridge became more pronounced as his eyes narrowed and glowed with more confusion. His vision remained locked on the older, regal-looking woman.

" _Especially_ , since Trig had his surveyors looking all over this city for that bitch."

 _The Grant son sighed. He was feeling frustration, himself. "I… I don't know where this woman is hiding! Wherever it is, it must be fucking incredible…" He blew a gust of air from his lips. "Since we received word of her warrant, teams of surveyors…Each of them contained twenty-four of my best surveyors… Teams, Eric… We've been pouring over every second of every surveillance video that can be found in this city. We lifted footage from security cameras to traffic lights' cameras to surveillance films from stores… We're hitting nothing…"_

Enlightenment.

'Oh… Oh my God…' he quietly gasped in shock.

Eric's skin was doused with a coldness, which made the flesh immediately erupt in clusters of pimples. Every fine, strand of hair that covered each of his limbs began to prickle.

"But we able to make due." Davina resumed glaring at the faction leader as he undergone the beginning stages of his shock. But, she carried an air of indifference to his act of emotional unraveling. The feeling of nonchalance was displayed in her voice as she continued on speaking.

'…Oh-Oh my God. Oh My God. Oh—

 _"…_ _I had Goliath kill that bitch…"_

His brain brought forth that remembered statement. He quickly recalled the expression that was on Davina's face as she spoken those cold, violent-filled words.

Logic, then, brought forth a solid reason for his mother-in-law's sudden attitude change. 'At this point… She wasn't talking about that dog.'

" _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family… The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family… bee-youuu-tiff-full dog, Eric!"_

 _"_ _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family… would looovvveee the attention. That damn little bitch would preen and perform little tricks in front of people… The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family… The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family… brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family…. tried to hurt my family… tried to hurt my family… tried to hurt my family… brown-eyed bitch… would looovvveee the attention. That damn little bitch would preen and perform little tricks in front of people…"_

Nippy, the Regen Dog of a miniature poodle, held the image of a dog with curly, chocolate-brown fur, in Eric's mind. He kept the image in his head as he listened to Davina divulge the story about her sister's dog. Now, his mind was drawing correlations between that poodle and with Anissa, as he heard Davina's voiced statements, over and over again. Gone from his head, were the imagined scenes of a brown-furred dog as it stood on its hind legs in front of strangers. Now, he was picturing Anissa.

Soon, memories of Anissa began to pour into his consciousness. Brief clips of that beautiful woman, which occurred in various periods of their history together, filled his mind.

"We were able to get rid of our problem without a hitch," he heard Davina declare. Her statement managed to cut through the thick stream of memories that clouded his consciousness.

 _"…_ _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family…Cut her fingertips off."_

His dazed, blue eyes glimpsed down at his legs in an absent-minded manner.

 _"…_ _Lila also breeds pigs… Hogs, if we want to be technical…"_

Eric's head whipped up and his gaze landed on his mother-in-law's presence again. The woman remained nonchalant.

 _"_ _Goliath… He had gone all-the-way down to Amity, late at night. He knew that no one would notice his appearance amongst them_ … _He had taken that bitch across Claire's field to my other sister's place… Lila's place…"_

 _"…_ _Lila also breeds pigs… Hogs, if we want to be technical…"_

 _"…_ _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family. So, I took care of her. I had Goliath take her down to Lila's farm and toss her inside of the hogs' feeding pen…"_

 _"…_ _Goliath… He had gone all-the-way down to Amity, late at night._ _He knew that no one would notice his appearance amongst them …"_

 _"_ _I… I don't know where this woman is hiding! Wherever it is, it must be fucking incredible…" He blew a gust of air from his lips. "Since we received word of her warrant, teams of surveyors…Each of them contained twenty-four of my best surveyors…"_

 _"…_ _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family. So, I took care of her. I had Goliath take her down to Lila's farm and toss her inside of the hogs' feeding pen…"_

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

 _"…_ _I had Goliath kill that bitch…"_

 _"_ _...Lila also breeds pigs… Hogs, if we want to be technical…"_

 _"_ _Did you know that pigs, if you were to starve them for…Let's say… For about a week…They can go through slop within less than a minute?"_

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

 _"…_ _I had Goliath take her down to Lila's farm and toss her inside of the hogs' feeding pen. He couldn't just toss her in… Believe it or not…" She glanced at her son-in-law. "… He had to shave her down. Remove her hair…"_

 _"…_ _Remove her hair…"_

 _"…_ _Remove her hair…"_

 _"…_ _Remove…"_

In his Eric's mind, he reflected on a time, an insignificant moment from his history, of his hand going through a sleeping, Anissa's brown mane of hair. His thick fingers were sifting through the long, straight strands and becoming tantalized by the cool—

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

He reflected about the appearance of her long digits as they slightly curled into the palm, as her hand rested on her pillow.

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

 _"…_ _The little, brown-eyed bitch had tried to hurt my family. So, I took care of her. I had Goliath take her down to Lila's farm and toss her inside of the hogs' feeding pen…"_

'Oh… My—

"God," his lips whimpered. The veil that was his sense of reflection pulled back from off of him and he was met with his awareness, once again. Tear-filled, wide eyes stared at his mother-in-law, who was still standing against the glass door. "Ah… Anissa?" his shuddering voice whimpered.

"I think you know the answer to that one," Davina simply stated before she lifted herself from off of the doorframe. Then she began to casually stroll away from the doorway.

As she traveled further into the room, his trembling gaze were stitched to every inch of movement that came from the woman. He noticed that she was trekking into the direction of the footboard to Lucien's assigned bed.

The shock's coldness, which latched itself onto Eric's skin, now managed to dig pass the surface and eat away at his bones. The chill has managed to make the brawny, faction leader unleash a steady and vibrant tremor from his body. His breaths lost their anonymity and were audible to his hearing.

"W-W-When?" It had taken the faction leader a few seconds to realize that the stammering inquiry came from his mouth. "W-W-When…? W-W-W-When… D-Did you…? W-When d-did you… When did you… _Find_ her?" he asked.

" _Oh_ ," sighed Davina, once again showing off her indifference to his current state. "Oh, um, yesterday morning," she confessed. "I… Received word about her involvement in the attack on Saturday night. Um…" She strolled up to Lucien's bedside and came to a halt, when she reached the bottom of the hand rail. "…I learned that she works the 'first tour' at the clinic, so that's when I decided that he should pounce." She glanced down at Lucien just as her right hand reached out for his hand. "I had sent Goliath—

" _Goliath?!"_ His voice had unintentionally came out in a sharp and harsh-sounding whisper. Eric's brain conjured up a memory, a visual reference, of his enigmatic, brother-in-law Goliath Junior. He recalled a moment that occurred seven years ago, when the both of them were guests at the birthday party for his son and for his mother-in-law. Eric was sitting at a table, watching the physically-imposing and almost giant-of a-man entertain a small gathering of children, which included Lucien, with magic tricks.

The inquiry earned the husband and father a soft glance from his wife's mother. "Yes," she confirmed with a nod of her head. "He was the person that I called to do it."

 _"_ _Teams, Eric… We've been pouring over every second of every surveillance video that can be found in this city. We lifted footage from security cameras to traffic lights' cameras to surveillance films from stores… We're hitting nothing…"_

"S-S-So… Trig—

"No. No," Davina politely corrected. "He doesn't know…" She shook her head. "…Just me… Goliath. And, _you_."

Eric tried to combat with the bulging lump that was wedged in his throat, by swallowing the thick layers of saliva that coated his mouth. "Ah… Nissa…"

"Mmm-hmm, what about her?"

"D-Did…? Th-The story? Is…? Is it true?" he reluctantly asked. "Is it true?"

Davina glanced at Lucien. "Eric… I've been on this earth for over fifty years. One glaring lesson that I've learned?" She focused at him with an intense hold. "The truth is stranger than fiction. If you hear a story that sounds so… _Unbelievable_ to you… More likely, it's true." She returned her gaze to her sleeping grandson. "So… When Lila brings the ham over to my place, next Christmas, it is best that you shouldn't eat any of it," she suggested.

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

 _"…_ _He had to shave her down. Remove her hair…"_

 _"…_ _The hogs… To help them with their digestive tracts. If you feed them other animals, then it's best to shave the hair off and whatever fingernails there is on the animal. Plus, there needs to be the removal of the teeth as well…"_

Davina's previous, spoken statements replayed in the faction leader's mind. To go along with the graphic explanation about the process of feeding pigs, his over-imaginative brain created visual depictions of the macabre method. He was met with images of his brother-in-law enacting every horrifying action, with a terrified Anissa being his prey.

 _"…_ _Cut her fingertips off…"_

 _"…_ _He had to shave her down. Remove her hair…"_

 _"…_ _whatever fingernails there is on the animal. Plus, there needs to be the removal of the teeth as well…"_

The images brought forth his nausea. With the grotesque sound of a dry heave, Eric's right hand cupped over his mouth and he sprung off of the edge of Nasira's bed. As his brain replayed fading remnants of his creative daydream, he ran to the bathroom, where he spewed into the bowl-shaped, sink. Shaking fingers tightly clenched the smooth rim of the sink and his body heaved with every upheaval of undigested food.

A sob-like, gasp came from his mouth after the last putrid spillage came from his mouth. It wasn't until he felt a wet, ticklish sensation against the bridge of his nose and cheeks, when the faction leader realized it was indeed a sob. Watery eyes provided the soiled sink with a bleary vision while his mouth serenaded the porcelain bowl with shuddering, faint cries.

 _"_ _Eric!" Anissa squealed with delight._

 _He was gifted with a tight-lipped smile while her golden-hued orbs were fixed on him. He took note of the fact that her smile was filled with mischief. A snicker escaped his mouth. "What?" he spat out, pondering her hidden motive._

 _"_ _Nothing," she said, in coy manner. She continued to walk along the boardwalk. Her right hand reached up to her right temple and she brushed a lock of her gorgeous, brown hair behind her right ear. "Are you excited about being a leader?" she asked him, giving the meager ocean a glimpse._

 _"_ _Y-Yeah," he confessed. "But I am feeling… I don't know… Nerv—_

 _"_ _Eric!" she lightly scolded him._

 _He was immediately struck with a twinge of embarrassment. A buzzing, redness filled his cheeks. His bottom lip subtly trembled, before he was able to stammer out, "S-S-Sorry"._

 _"_ _Don't be 'sorry', Eric. Be smart. You can't be nervous. Not here. Not in Dauntless. You should know that they eat weakness here. If they smell weakness come from you… But, you already know about that," Anissa scolded him. "And, you need to fix that stutter. A leader cannot stutter. You've come from Erudite. They expect something from that."_

 _"_ _S-Sor… Sorry, Ah—_

"I know what you're feeling, right now, Eric," Davina told him as she stood in the bathroom's threshold, distracting him.

He turned his trembling head to his left, to stare at the woman. His eyes took in her relaxed and extravagant-looking form. Just like her daughter, Davina stood in the same manner: leaning her upper body against a post in the doorframe, her right hand held onto the same post, her right leg was crossed over the left and her left hand was perched on her left hip. He was struck by the feeling that he was now dealing with the "Davina" that he was used to: the sassy, friendly and kind woman that loved it, when he called her 'Ma'. The woman, whose presence would conjure up shrieks of happiness from his kids, as well as, from his in-laws' children.

 _That woman_.

With a veneer in her eyes that he recognized as being her sympathy, she spoke up again. "I know exactly how you're feeling, Eric… It's that… _Feeling_ of sadness. It's a special kind of sadness, because it is always for a person that doesn't deserve not one iota of sympathy. _I know that feeling_. _Very well_ …" She softly nodded her head. "The first person? My father." She made an audible inhale, which was followed by, "That man spent most of his life beating the hell out of my mother, my brothers and sisters and me. But guess what? _Guess who was boo-hoo-hoo-ing at his funeral, in the very first pew?_ _All of us!"_ She looked away from him and she focused on an insignificant spot on the wall, right above the mirror. "Mmmm," she hummed in contemplation.

At this moment, Eric turned away and viewed the mess that he had made in the sink. His trembling, right hand reached for the sink's knobs. Once the water poured into the bowl, he proceeded to clean it out, by using his hand as a rag.

"Eric?"

His head snapped to the left and he stared at his mother-in-law. She was still staring at the spot on the wall. "Y-Yeah?" his voice creaked.

"Do you remember a Dauntless man by the name of Trevor Stuyvesant? I know that he's… _Proceeding thy genesis_ … But, you should know about him," she stated.

"N-N-No," he grunted. Then he turned away again and returned his gazing to the sink.

" _No_?" Then she lowly grunted. "Well… He had also gone by the name of 'Sweets' Stuyvesant. But, if you don't…"

'The name… Sounds familiar,' his brain murmured. Eric proceeded on cleaning out his mouth with a handful of cold water.

"…know him by his government name, then there's a chance that you don't know him," she pointed out. "Well, Sweets… He was the second person that I felt that feeling for." On a sigh, she said, "Sweets…" Then, she followed it with, "He was my first love. I had met him on the very first day of my initiation. He was already a Dauntless citizen. He was initiated the previous year. Goliath Senior and Trixie _hated him_. They thought that he was a try-hard; the type to try to fit into any-and-every social group and social setting. I thought differently, of course. _I_ loved him and that was all that mattered, to me." She shifted a little. "We were together for close to two years before we broke up and when Goliath decided to swoop in." She lightly chuckled. "Our break-up… It was mutual between us. At that point, we were going into different directions for everything: our careers, our political stances, our morals… You name it, I'll tell you that that was changing, too. I was… Eighteen, going on nineteen, when that happened. Once Sweets had moved out of my apartment, I didn't see him much after that. _Over the years that followed_? Yeah, of course. But, it was more like ' _bumping into each other as we walked down a street'_ , kind of thing." She took a breath. She stared at her son-in-law. "The last time I saw Sweets was when I was thirty-three years old. I received an invitation to attend his execution…"

' _What?!'_ Eric's head swiftly swung in his head into her direction. His slightly-widened, eyes stared at her.

"… _He invited me_ to his execution, by the way of his counsel." Davina's left hand performed a flimsy wave into his direction. "You see, this is why I don't understand why _you_ don't know who he is! He was one of the few men that was executed, here in Dauntless!" Her left hand returned to her hip. "Yeah… Apparently… Sweets was… Kidnapping… _And raping_ … Women. And, not just with women that was in Dauntless, at the time. There were victims, who came from the other factions. He would find them while walking the streets. That's who he took," she informed the faction leader. "One of his last victims, he ended up murdering. He claimed that it was done by accident. But it didn't matter. He was sentenced to death, in the Oculus."

"How… Many?" he questioned, his tone still hoarse.

Davina lifted away from the doorframe's post. Her right hand clasped onto her hip. "Ahhh… Seventeen girls— _women_ —from all five factions."

There was something from her last statement that caused the mental block to become unhinged. Eric's brain brought forth the limited facts that he managed to absorb from the newspapers and the bulletins, when he was an adolescent.

"He… He killed… The girl that he killed… She was from The Bottoms, in Erudite. She used to live in my building. Way before we moved in there. But I remember this, because there was a plaque in our lobby that was dedicated to her memory. I always found the plaque interesting, but I never put too much thought into it. Then, I think that I was around thirteen years old, I decided to find out some stuff about her. I was bored, I guess." He stared down into the sink. "I remember feeling like shit after I learned what happened to her." His paused, in order to inspect the inside of his mouth. He could still taste the vomit, so he decided to clean out his mouth again.

"I had wrestled with the idea of going… To his execution, after I received the invitation. Of course, Goliath was adamant that I should've stayed home and ignore the invitation. Anybody with a working brain would've agreed with him. I mean… _It was an execution_!"

"So, did you go?" Eric asked after spitting out the last bit of water.

"Yeah, I did go. I felt like I _had_ to go," she revealed. "My husband wasn't happy about it, of course. At the time, I was pregnant with Goliath…"

'How-fucking-appropriate,' Eric sardonically pondered.

"…at the time," she informed him. "The execution… It was…" A harsh-sounding exhale was performed as well as a full-body shudder. "That was my first _and my last_ execution viewing." Davina tilted her head back to pop the kinks in her neck. "Even though Sweets was a rapist and a murderer, who afflicted pain on _many-many_ people… _I did_ cry for him. I did feel sympathy and pity for him, despite knowing that he was a monster. I did go home that night, go into my cellar and secretly cried for that man. It took me _months_ to get right again; to get back to myself again. I questioned myself as to why I felt that way about Sweets. And you know what? _I figured it out!_ I figured it out…" She shifted her weight between her feet. "I still carried around the image of Sweets that _Sweets pretended to be_. In my heart… In my mind… Sweets was the goofy, articulate and fun guy that I was in love with. I was in love with that façade. The… ' _Mask'_ , let's say that for dramatics' sake. Once I realized that he wasn't the man that I thought that he was… And, I realized that I was naïve and foolish, when we were together… That feeling of sadness lifted off of me, Eric." She allowed her son-in-law to absorb the messages that she conveyed to him. "So… _Yes_ , I do understand how you're feeling about… _Her_ … Right now. I'm not mad at you for your initial reaction to the news." Then, Davina gave him a look. "So… _There_."

Without another word, she made her exit from out of the threshold.

As Eric watched her retreating form and listening to the repetitive sounds that came from her sandals as they traipsed across the suite's floor, he recognized that she managed to describe his current emotional state with precise accuracy. Even his heart agreed with her assessment, if he were to judge, based off of the rapid heartbeats that were going off inside of his chest. The coldness was letting up. The shuddering breathing, the shivers and that foreboding feeling was also letting up off of him. His view turned away from the doorway and it landed on his reflection. He saw himself, but he also saw a stranger.

"I can tell you that as soon as you accept that you were in love with a fabricated image, a carefully-crafted façade, then you'll feel the change, Eric," Davina told him, after he entered the suite, twelve minutes later. "You'll look back and think of that… _Devil-Woman_ , differently."

He couldn't think of a response. All he could do was nod his head.

The faction leader stared at the woman as she sat on the edge of Lucien's bed as copious amounts of silence passed through the suite. During this pregnant time of stillness and of reflection, she stared fondly at her grandson. Eric was a spectator to the scene. At one point, her fingertips lightly grazed the stubble that graced the child's head.

"Eric…" she whispered, ending the moment.

"Yeah?" he whispered, unaware of his voice's level.

"…You gotta understand…" she breathed, with the tone's volume a little higher. "… _She. Hurt. Us._ " Her tear-filled eyes focused on her son-in-law. " _Do you understand this_?" she queried. She glanced at Lucien. "I…" Her head gently shook. "…wasn't going to wait for Max and the other leaders to come up with their judgement. This… _This…_ It was something that only we, Grants, could handle…" Her weeping eyes focused on him. "… _Do you understand_?" Her glossy, dark brown eyes focused on Nasira, whose frame Eric was sitting beside. "She spilled our blood, so it was only right that we got the chance to spill hers," she reported. She retracted her right hand from her grandson's presence, so she could wipe away her tears.

"There were two other—

"That's going to be handle," Davina curtly informed him. Her eyesight latched onto his face. "Before this week is up…" Her voice trailed off. Her head performed a nod. "Don't worry about them," she suggested.

Once again, Eric's head performed a nod. His eyes focused on his eldest son. A memory popped up in his head. A somewhat, happy and thrilling memory for him, when he thought about it in retrospect. With lips forming a smile, he announced, "Your _Bunchie_ … He woke up, a few hours ago". The high-pitched, gasp of surprise forced Eric to peep his mother-in-law.

" _He did_?!" she gasped. A toothy smile appeared on her lips. " _He woke up?!_ " She looked down at her grandson. _"Really?!"_ Her hands lightly grasped his left arm. "I wish that I was here to see it!"

Craving for a positive, shift in energy, Eric decided to veer their interaction into another pathway. He glimpsed down at his lap as he spoke up again. "The other kids are fine. I had, ah, seen them today. Zee…She's fine. She asked about Luke and about Nass. I don't know what to tell her, to be quite honest. Right now, she thinks that they're sick with the flu and they're in the hospital," he revealed. He glanced over his right shoulder and at his mother-in-law.

'Aww, hell, Coulter,' his conscience cursed out, recognizing that he couldn't keep the positive energy for long.

"Roxy told me that's the lie that's going around," Davina mentioned. "I mean, it's a _good one,_ but the truth needs to be told, Eric. _Zee needs to know_."

"I know," he murmured. "I just don't… _Right now_ , Zee is afraid of monsters that are hiding underneath her bed and in her closet. I don't want her to…" He unleashed a gruff sigh. " _There's enough time_. She shouldn't have to find out about the real monsters that's lurking in this world, in this city. _Now_."

"I understand, Eric," she remarked. " _Trust me_ … I understand. As a mother for eight kids, I truly understand what you're talking about. But, in this particular case? Zee _needs_ to know, baby. It's better for _you_ to tell her than for someone else, a stranger or a classmate, to tell her."

Eric's lips formed a tight line of pink flesh. He regrettably nodded his head as he turned his head to face forward.

"If you want… When _you do_ tell her…I can be there with you," Davina offered. "Will that be okay for you?"

"Yeah," he answered, tenderly. "Yeah."

More silence flooded the suite. Snippets from the memories that were built within the past four days ran through his mind. Along with the physical reminders about his lack of sleep, Eric Coulter felt officially done with life. Not permanently done. Just… Ten hours' worth. Or, however long it would take for Eric to get a full night's rest.

Davina exhaled. "Well… Lemme go," she suddenly announced.

He slowly turned his body, so he could peer at his mother-in-law.

The Grant matriarch was stretching her long arms, in the air. "It's getting late… And, _early_. Plus, I want to get back before Martha finds out that I had snuck out of my apartment."

'Wait…'

"Wait… _I thought that your nurse was here?!_ So, you'd— _how did you get here?!_ _Did you drive all-the-way here, by yourself?!"_ A frown appeared. "Davina," he groaned with disappointment in his tone.

The woman tossed the young man a scolding glare. "Eric… _Don't you dare start with me!_ " She stood up. "Both _my daughter_ and _one of my grandsons_ have been _shot_! I'm not going to sit around and twiddling my got-damned thumbs and wait for someone to take me to see them. _No, I am not_!" Her hands aggressively brushed away imaginary dust from off of her kaftan. "I may have cancer eating away at my insides like they're a bunch of freeloaders at a free, 'All-You-Can-Eat' buffet, but I am not an invalid! I can still do things for myself, like _drive a fuckin' car_!"

Like Rogue, Davina knew when to throw out an appropriate joke. With a bit of restraint, he refrained from laughing. Instead, he just gave her a head nod, a sign of surrender and as a sign of agreement.

Davina strolled over to Eric's side. She placed her left hand on his right shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "I will be back tomorrow…" Realizing her snafu, when it came to the time, she then muttered, "Later today… _Whatever_ it is". She reported, "I will be bringing Martha… _This time_." She rolled her eyes. "And, I am bringing dinner with me. A home-cooked meal, which is something you all will appreciate. By then, both Nassy and Bunchie would've eaten a bit of this hospital food and they will be happy to see me. You think?"

Eric smiled. "If you're cooking, then yes, they will," he confirmed.

She giggled. " _Good_! It'll give me something to do. Plus, it'll allow me to take my mind off of the bullshit that's been going on, since this passing weekend." Her right hand reached for the back of his head, where she placed an affectionate hold. "Well, lemme go." She gave his right cheek a kiss. She was a recipient of a chaste kiss, which was applied to her right cheek. Once there was a distance between them, "Promise me that you will get some sleep".

"I will," he uttered. "I will… _Ma_."

She softly chuckled. "I love it, when you call me that."

"I know," he told her while carrying a smile. "Have a good night, Ma."

"You too, honey."

* * *

 **~*oMLo*~**

 _"_ _Alright," she released in a gentle sigh._

 _There was the soft caress from her lips against his forehead, as she spoke. His nose picked up the scent of strawberries from the dewy heat that fanned his face. His brain reminded his conscience about her, the moment in which she dined on a cup of strawberries as they watched a film from her vid-con._

 _"_ _Tell me what's wrong, Coulter," she requested._

 _Blue eyes snapped open and was greeted by a sheet of blackness. Even though it was foolish, his orbs tried to view the flesh that belonged to the woman, who was lying next to him. "What…? What are you talking about?" he disputed. Meanwhile, his heart began to pound and pressure began to fill up his stomach._

 _His mind was hit with memories from that moment. It was splashed against the walls of his mind. There was the memory of being notified about Raymond's death. The moment in which the words were processed through his brain. Then there was the memory of the appearance that belonged to the Erudite police officer, in his tailored, blue uniform. There was the recall of the passionate emotion that singed Eric's spirit, when he recognized the sense of arrogance that came from the cop, even as he stood in a Dauntless leader's office._

 _"_ _You're different tonight, Coulter. That's it," Nasira alerted him. "Even when you were hanging out with Luke. You weren't acting like yourself. Plus… Your energy is off. Then… There's this. Right now, you're laying here with me… Cuddling with me rather than trying to get your dick wet. Now—_

 _"_ _You know what? I'm…" Eric began to move away. "…going to go. I think it's for the best," he declared. 'Better, if I go home, anyway. There's… I have a vial by the bed and a bottle of whisk—_

 _"_ _You ain't going nowhere," grumbled Nasira._

 _Suddenly, Eric felt strength wrapped around his shoulder and then a force pushed him into his bed mate's personal bubble. The sensation that could only come from a hot, palm and a set of fingers, landed on his left cheek._

 _"_ _Nass," he growled, both in distaste and as a warning._

 _"_ _Eric, I am going to ignore your scary growl-groans and the start of your "Big and Scary" routine, because all it does is make me horny. So, I advise you to not to waste your time and cut it out," she semi-joked. Her hand left his cheek and she allowed her fingers to sift through his hair. She began to finger the short and highly-coiffed strands. She remained silent for the first few minutes._

 _Her fingers were causing tingles of indescribable pleasure to erupt in him. It would begin in his scalp and sliver down to his face, ears and shoulders. The faction leader even felt the cozy throbs inside of his fucking skull._

 _Besides feeling wonderful, her massaging fingers also served as some sort of truth serum for him. "My dad… I mean, my step-father… He… Died," he blurted. A second later, the delightful tingles unexpectedly came to a stop._

 _"_ _Oh…" he heard her softly gasp, a second later. "Oh Eric… I'm sorry," she said softly._

 _The emotion that was soaked in her statement caused his face to grow hot. Even without the ability to see his reflection, he was aware that he was blushing. "Th-Thanks… B-But, no thanks," he stuttered. The action caused Eric's blush to deepen. "Y-You don't…" He paused. He silently cursed at himself for stuttering once more. 'Relax,' his conscience urged. He took in several meaningful breaths before he spoke up again. "You… You don't need to apologize. He wasn't worth it. Trust me, when I say this. Plus, he was just my step-father, so…"_

 _A lump managed to grow in his throat, at the recitation of that lie. The bulge managed to grow into such a profound state that it caused the joints in his jaw to emit subtle aches._

 _"_ _Judging by your voice, baby… He was there for you, at one point in your life," Nasira pointed out. "He was someone special to you. I can tell…" Her fingers resumed their task of massaging his scalp. "…So, once again… I am sorry for your loss, baby."_

 _The lump swelled up, making it difficult to breathe through his nose. His lips parted and revealed to their owner that his jaw was releasing a steady chattering. "T-T-T-Thanks… N-Nass," he practically whimpered._

 _"_ _You're welcome, baby," she whispered to his forehead. Her lips puckered and gave him a kiss._

 _Her bedroom, then, became silent again. Without any dialogue, the purple and white walls were subjected to the sounds of the harsh, whirling winds that danced against the window's panes, as well as, the faint sounds of traffic._

 _"_ _He was…" he suddenly murmured. He swiftly closed his eyes and tried to quell the influx of childhood memories down to a bare minimum. "…He was found this morning. I was notified about it, this afternoon. He… H-He was found in the alleyway that's in bet—con-connected to his apartment building. T-The building that he lives in. Lived in. He-He… His building has another exit and it connects to the alleyway…"_

 _As he spoke, his ears picked up Nasira's soft hums, the signs of encouragement. She wanted him to keep speaking to her. Her fingertips made the transition from his sensitive scalp to his sensitive left ear and the back of his neck._

 _"…_ _There's s-stairs. There's a staircase. Y-You hav-have to take the stairs to get to the door, if you want to enter the building. He-He slipped on some ice that was on those stairs…" As Eric spoke about his step-father's death, it was accompanied by made-up scenario in which the elderly man was tumbling down a long staircase of stone steps, in slow motion. "…H-H-H-His foot slipped and-and he f-f-fell d-down." There was a noticeable, shaky exhale. "Blunt force trauma. It's on his death records. He… The fall… Medical Ex-Examiner's report… T-T-Tah-Two days…" A slow breath came from his parted lips. "He die-died… Two. Days ago. B-But he wasn't fah-fah-found… Until th-this morning." He whimpered, "This morning"._

 _Then, there was the sensation of fingertips caressing his cheek._

 _"_ _M-My dad… H-He waa-waa-was a lee-lead researcher." An uneasy and unsettling chuckle slipped from his mouth. Then, there was a sniffle. Fingers reached up to dry the tip of his nose and then a knuckle made a swipe at his wet left cheek. "He... He, ah, he was a lead researcher in a lab…"_

 _Eric heard a soft, whinnying gasp filled the air._

 _"…_ _He was a… Lead researcher in a lab," he groaned, out of frustration._

 _Then, his ears picked up a sound of angst-filled, soft gasp._

 _"_ _And he was found…" His lips released a sob and a shuddering inhale. "He was found in an alley," he cried. "L-Like… Like he was gar-garbage," he mewled. "Like he was garbage," he cried. "Like…"_

 _"_ _Shhh…Shhh… Its okay, Eric. It is going to be okay," Nasira whispered softly._

 _The faction leader felt strong pressure wrap around his shoulder blades. A palm lain flat against his back._

 _"_ _It is alright, Eric. Let it out, baby. It is okay. It's just me. You know that I won't say anything to anybody. Come on. It's just me…It's just me…"_

 _Her words. The declaration of confidentiality between the two of them. It was enough to cause the dam that he has managed to build, to come crumbling down. With a low, shivering breath, he began to unleash loud sobs into her collarbone and right shoulder._

 _"_ _I'm… So-so-so-so-so-so-so sorry, Eric," she whispered to him. "I'm sorry that he…" Her voice trailed off. A sigh followed. "You're going to be okay, hon."_

 _His left arm curled around her waist and then squeezed. He held onto her as he quietly unleashed the pain and discomfort that has been building up, since he was given the news._

 _"_ _You're going to be a—_

A force shook Eric from out of his self-imposed reverie, startling him. As his awareness gradually returned, he recognized the appearance of the suite's ceiling. Once he became fully cognizant of his current location, he began to try to figure out the identity of the source that snapped him out of his thoughts.

" _Ahhh…I…I…ah_ …"

The gasp was low and hoarse, as well as, feminine.

'Nasira.'

His eyes gone wide just as his head snapped to the right, against the thin pillow. He aimed his gaze to the hospital bed, which was several feet from where he was lying. He discovered the origin behind the hoarse gasp just as she was about to make another one.

' _Nass_.'

 _Nasira._ His most trusted warrior from the Dauntless faction, in this city and even the whole got-damned world. His wife. The mother of his children.

She was also awake.

Nasira was currently sitting upright in her assigned bed. On her face, she carried an expression that was a cross between being confused and being frightened. Her brow carried a deep crease, her eyes held a glossy sheen and her mouth was agape. She held her casted hand and her right hand in front of her face. Both appendages released shivers as they were being inspected. A stream of subdued whimpers spilled from her throat and mouth.

' _Say something_.'

"N-Nass," Eric whispered, from his position on the portable bed. Even he felt frightened, at the moment.

Dark brown-colored eyes focused on him. "Err…" She couldn't complete her inquiry. Her facial features crumpled while a loud sob escaped from her mouth. The back of her right hand was pressed to her lips, which was attempt to smother any impending sobs. A few more cries came through. "Err… Err-ric," she eventually unleashed, in between cries. "Err… Eric."

A shaky chuckle escaped from his feeble smile. He slowly rose himself into an upright, sitting position on the cot. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, it's me, baby. It's me," he kindly told her. "Nass…You're scared, aren't you?" he queried with the same sympathetic tone.

More cries came from his wife. Nasira's head unleashed several, feverish nods.

"You… You remember what happened, don't you?"

There were more hurried head nods from the recovering woman. "I…" she breathed. "I… I-I-I-I…There was a guy. He—I tried—He had… He had a g-gun…" Her voice trailed off. Her face crumpled up again as another hoarse cry rang out. She glanced at her hands. "H-He… He-He… He _shhh-shot_ …" Her head whipped to the side and her bulging eyes glared down her sleeping suite-mate. " _He shot Luke_ … He… Shot our baby," she sobbed.

'Go over to her,' his instinct had instructed him.

"He shot him. He shot Luke. He… He shot him," she continued to cry into her palms.

Eric decided to disregard his instincts for the moment. He didn't want to make any sudden moves and end up frightening her. "Nass?" he breathed. Once her eyes focused on him, he stated, "I would like to… I would like to sit next to you. Is that… Is it alright with you, baby?"

She answered immediately with a series of head nods. With that sign of allowance, the concerned husband leapt off of the mattress and he trekked over to his wife's bedside. His bare feet made swift, long strides along the floor and ended up arriving to her side in less than a couple of seconds. Once he was closed enough, his tatted-up right forearm was a recipient to a wet grasp from her right hand. She began to yank on his arm with desperation.

"It is okay, Nass. It is okay," he murmured. He allowed her hand to take charge of their interaction. He watched her pull him to the edge of the mattress, where the bed dug into the tops of his thighs. He made a swift glimpse to the edge and then he returned his gaze to Nasira. "I'm right here, Nass. I'm right here. I'm not going away. I'm not going nowhere," he muttered.

'Lay with her,' his instinct directed to him.

"Nass… I want to lay with you. Is this okay?" he requested.

"Y-Yeah," she whimpered as she nodded her head. "Yes," she declared. She let go of his forearm. Her right hand pressed down on the mattress and helped the rest of her body scoot along the surface. Her motions led her to the other side of the queen-sized, mattress. During her method of transportation, she tossed her husband glances, just to make sure that he remained rooted in his spot.

As he watched his wife make some space on her bedding for him, Eric made sure to speak assurances to her. Once there was enough space for him, he cautiously slipped onto the bed. He was mindful of her condition as he settled into the mattress. As soon as he felt comfortable, he wordlessly invited his wife to share an embrace, with a subtle hand gesture. Wordlessly, she slipped into his personal space. His left arm immediately draped around her back and his forearm lightly embraced her waist. He tried to peer at the top of her head. "Everything is going to be alright, Nass. We're going to be alright."

Nasira sobbed into his chest as she rested her head on his left pectoral and shoulder. Her casted, left arm draped over his taut stomach while her right arm was in between their bodies.

"Nass… Everything is going to be alright with us. We're going to be fine. Luke— _Luke! Look at him, baby!_ " whispered Eric. "Come on, baby, look at our boy." He lifted his head from off of the pillow and he glanced over to his right. He viewed the sleeping Lucien. Then his eyes made a glance to his weeping wife. "Baby… Come on… Come on and look at him." He watched her squinting eyes slowly widen and end up becoming half-mast. They focused on their son, a second later. A low chuckle escaped him, an effort to help his wife to calm down. " _There you go! There you go!_ " he cheered. "He's going to be okay, Nass. Luke's going to be okay. I promise you. The Kid's going to be okay!"

"Luke… Okay," she whimpered. Her tear-filled eyes focused on him. "He's… Gonna be okay," she murmured.

"Yes," he confirmed with a head nod. "He's okay. He's strong… Like you, baby. He's tough like you, too."

"Strong," she whimpered before releasing more tears.

A strangled groan came from his throat while his eyelids drifted over his eyes. He fought on that natural urge to cry. He knew— _felt_ —it wasn't the appropriate time. Eric felt that he needed to be strong for his wife, at the moment. His left arm gave a squeeze to her frame before his head lifted off of the pillow. His lips searched and found her hairline, which was gifted with a kiss. As he reclined, his fingers wiped his tears away, the ones that managed to escape.

Eric continue to listen to the cries that continued to come from Nasira. They had gone from being consistent, to choppy and soft. Then the current dwindled down to sporadic whimpers. As she cried, he made sure he shown her support, whether if there were caresses or if there were spoken assurances. Then, there was silence.

"Eric?" Nasira's creaking voice called out, minutes into the state of stillness.

He lifted his head off of the pillow, so he could peer down at her face. He noticed that she was staring at their son. "Yeah, baby?" he muttered.

"Where are we?" she inquired. "I-I know that we're in a hospital. But which one?"

"We're in Landsteiner-Popper," he reported on the back of an exhale. His hand performed a caress on her left bicep. "We're in Erudite."

"Oh…Kay," she said gently. A few shaky breaths escaped from her. "Why am I here instead of being in the infirmary?"

A groan burned at his throat while his spirit became washed with reluctance. The reluctance to express the reason of her hospital admittance. He knew that his naturally-inquisitive, wife could end up learning about Anissa's involvement behind the shootings, all before the day was over. He took a deep breath. "You don't remember it, do you?"

"No," she gasped. "And I don't want to remember it," she confessed. "I wish that I could forget Luke's… But I would like to know what happened, though."

"Must be that Erudite in you," he said softly, as a joke. There was a short, breathy giggle from her, as a reaction. A dull throb began to circulate through his chest while flutters erupted inside of his stomach. A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face while another pair of fresh tears traveled down his cheeks.

"I… I was shot, _right_?" she said, wistfully, after her laughter died down.

"Yeah," he said gently, but it was chocked full of remorse. "Yeah, you were shot. Five bullets. Total. Four of them managed to pass through. Thankfully, none of them left any damage. One bullet managed to get caught up in your small intestine. There was some damage." He made a hearty inhale, in order to soothe his raging nerves. "Doctors… _Surgeons_ … They, ah, had to remove the damaged parts, about a foot of it and they got the bullet out. In regards to your other wounds, there was a shot to your left shoulder, your left leg and your pelvis, too. As you can see, your arm was also hit."

There wasn't an immediate response from her. "Well… There goes bikini season," she quipped.

Both parents ended up falling into laughter. Both streams were not vibrant, but did contained some mirthfulness. The lukewarm joyful moment came to a halt, when there was a gasp of pain from the mother.

"Babe—

"It's… I'm okay. It's a little pain, in my lower belly. Nothing… Bad," she grunted. "Nothing bad. I don't think… It was probably the laughter."

"Okay, baby," he murmured with concerned. There was another kiss to her hairline.

"What about…Lucien? What happened?" she reluctantly asked.

Spliced-up memories about his discovery, on that Saturday morning, in his truck's backseat had entered his mind. Dreadful emotions were conjured up as he remembered.

"Eric?" she whimpered, distracting him.

"Mmmm," he sadly moaned.

"You're… You're shaking like a leaf right now. You're thinking about it, aren't you?" There was silence and then there was " _You were there_ , weren't you?"

He nodded. Once he realized that she couldn't view his reaction, he verbally answered her. "Yes. I… I found him. He was still in his seat. No one knew that he was there until I said something." He paused, so he could chase away the lump that was in his throat, with a cough. With his thick fingers slightly gripping his throat, he resumed speaking. "He was… He was s-s-s-shot. Three times. Um, one of the bullets grazed him on his head. He was hit in the liv-liver and his spleen was also… Struck. The doctors said that his spleen couldn't have been saved, so they removed it."

"Oh, no," she groaned, "my baby".

His left hand caressed her left shoulder. "He, ah, woke up… _Last night_. Around one… One-A.M. He was in pain. His head was bothering him. A nurse came in and gave him something for the pain. Um, he was up… For about a half an hour before he had gone back to sleep."

"Was he okay? Aside from the pain."

"Yeah, he's okay. He was okay," Eric notified her. "How about you? How are you feeling right now?"

"I'm…Fine," she reported.

"Are you still feeling any pain?"

"I'm… Just… A little. I—

"Let me go and get a nurse. She—

" _No!_ " protested Nasira. She lifted her head from off of his chest and she glared down at him. "No, please. Please, Eric. She's going to give me something that's going to make me get sleepy. I don't want to go back to sleep," she confessed. Pink-tinted, brown eyes stared at her husband's face. They silently pled with him. "Please, Eric," she whimpered, "baby, please".

Eric stared up at his wife. His logic and his heart was telling him to get a nurse, so she could administer another shot of morphine. But he was aware that the strong narcotic would make Nasira fall into a drug-induced slumber. He didn't want to go through another period of time, where he was the only conscious person in the room. He didn't want to be plague with the paranoid notion that she wouldn't wake up. He _needed_ Nasira to stay awake, for the sake of his sanity. At least, stay awake for a few hours. Up until this scary feeling would disappear.

He sighed, in resignation. "Promise me… Once the pain becomes too much for you…"

Nasira began to nod.

"…and you can't tolerate it anymore, tell me. Okay?"

"Yes, I'll let you know," she told him.

He gave her a lingering look for several seconds, before he relaxed again. His left hand clasped her arm, in comfort.

"How long have I been out of it?" Nasira questioned, disrupting another bout of silence.

Eric sighed. "It happened on a Saturday morning. I was in county for… Saturday night… Sunday… Sunday… Then on Monday morning, I was released. I had gone home to see the kids. I managed to get some sleep and eat. I came here that night, which _was last night_. And judging by the looks of it…" His eyes performed a glimpse to the windows. He took note of the appearance of the burgeoning daylight. "…We're heading into Tuesday morning. So, you've been out of it for close to three days… _I think_."

"Wait a min… You said that you were in county. Eric… 'County', as in ' _Cook County Jail'_? Eric, were you in jail?" she asked him.

" _Ahhh_ …Yeah," he reluctantly confessed.

" _Why?_ "

"Cos… I… I had… _Punched_ … The police chief," he revealed.

 _"_ _Police Chief Robeson_?"

He could sense the smile that was on her face.

"Yeee-yup!" he confirmed. "He was questioning me… _Immediately right after_. I ended up punching him because he wouldn't let me go with you, when I saw the EMTs loading you up in the ambulance. I punched him and the next thing I know… I was being handcuffed and loaded into a cop car and taken to jail."

" _What a prick_ ," she groaned. She listened to her husband's laughter before she spoke up again. "So… You weren't here, waiting for us, while we were getting chopped up…"

A slow hiss of disagreement escaped Eric's mouth.

"…and sewn back together?" Then she groaned, " _My God_ ". There was an exhale. "Eric… How did you _handle it_? If that was me, I'm sure that I would've lost my mind."

"I thought that I was going to," he confessed. "So I told myself to think about some of our happy memories, you know… To keep from losing it."

" _Oh yeah_?" she groaned. "What did you think about?"

"I knew that you were going to ask me that," he pointed out as a smile touched his lips.

"Well, if you knew, then you should have some examples lined up to tell me," she chuckled.

"Alright," mused Eric. "I thought about our wedding day…"

"That was a nice day," she muttered.

"…I thought about Zee's birth…"

Nasira chuckled. "You were so scared," she remarked. "But you were there for me, no matter what though."

"That's cos you were mine, Nass. Even though we weren't together at the time. I was still in love with you," he pointed out. "Hey… I even thought about _that moment_ … The moment of when I felt _it_ , being in love with you," he confessed.

" _When was that moment?_ _You've never told me_ about that moment," she stated with amusement.

"It… It had occurred on the morning after I told you about my step-dad. By then, Luke woke us up, so he could sleep with us. The moment happened after I woke up that morning. I remember that I was just staring at you guys and I couldn't understand why. I was… It was… Something."

A low squeal of admiration came from her. Then her lips found his pectoral and issued a kiss.

Teasingly, his left hand covered her face and his index finger tried to delve into her left nostril. She squealed out in disgust and she jerked her face from out of his clutches. There was a masculine snicker.

" _Ugh, Eric_!" she squealed. She nipped on his shirt-covered flesh, in retaliation. "Don't be a jerk to your injured wife!" she warned, with laughter stitched to her words. "Now… Tell me some more of your memories."

"Alright," he chuckled. He cut off the streak of laughter with a strong exhale. "Okay… Mmmm… Let's see… I remembered the night that I brought you Calamity and Anarchy," he tossed out.

" _Awww, my babies!"_ she cooed. "How all of my babies doing, by the way?"

"All of them are fine, the last time I checked. Um, Nicole and Nicky Salazar are watching Zee for me. Hexa, that red-headed little stump, is taking care of the boys and the cats. The boys are fine. But the cats are driving her up a wall, though."

" _Why_? I thought that she like the cats. What's going on?"

" _Her milk_ , that's why," he informed his wife.

 _"_ _Ohhh_ ," she hummed, now understanding.

"They smell it and they want it, so they've been stalking her and any other thing that smells like it. Before I left the house last night, Calamity had stolen one of her bras and was having a _good ole time_ with it, in their cat tree," Eric told her.

A streak of high-pitched, wheezing giggles left Nasira. Her cast-covered, left hand eventually was brought to her face, so her thumb could wipe away the remnants of tears that stained her cheeks.

"Calamity…" Eric chortled. "She was on top of their tree and you know that Hexa is only about eighteen inches tall…" A shaky giggle broke up the rest of his statement. Soon, his streak of laughter merged with hers. When he felt a reprieve in the onslaught of giggles, he sputtered, "It was like… It was l-like… Watching a goblin jump around…" His laughter consumed him once again and he couldn't finish his sentence. Nasira had her face buried in his chest. He felt a stream of heat shower him while her shoulder's trembling was being smothered by his left hand, as she laughed.

After a while, she lifted her face from off of his chest and she rested the bottom of her chin on the hard plain of flesh and bone. Her teary eyes flickered up his chest and ended up aiming their view at his face. With meager remains of her laughter still loitering in her voice, her lips stated, "I love you".

A hand came to her cheek and the pad to his thumb caressed the warm, flustered skin. With his own case of tear-filled eyes, he stared down at his wife. "I love you, too, Nass."

The smile that was on her lips became broader. "Do you want me to sing for you?" she unexpectedly asked of him. "Me singing… It always seems fitting for moments like these, after all, we have plenty of them," she quipped.

A hint of a smile appeared. "Sure," he agreed.

"What do you want me to sing?" she asked before turning her lips to his palm and planting a kiss to the skin.

"Hon… You know that I am not good at picking things like this. You pick something. You're good at things like this. I trust your taste," he told her. "If you make me pick, then more than likely, you'll be singing a 'Biohazard' song," he joked.

Nasira snorted and rolled her eyes. "Alright," she grumbled. After a minute of contemplation, she made her decision. "Lemme sing an ' _oldie but goodie'_ for us," she notified her husband. There was a stream of silence, before she parted her lips. There was a soft intake of oxygen and then…

 _"_ _I'm lying on the moon.  
My dear, I'll be there soon.  
It's a quiet and starry place.  
Time's we're swallowed up.  
In space we're here a million miles away…"_

As his wife sung and his ears listened to the words, a memory began to tug at his brain. It came in the form of a flashing image. It was the image of Nasira as her lips moved and she carried a face of deep contemplation. Her eyes were closed, there was a series of soft folds written on her forehead and brow. There was an unmentionable, wordless and soundless reference to the sensation of pain. He secretly tried to determine if this was a snippet of a dream or if this was an actual memory, as he listened to her singing.

 _"…_ _There's things I wish I knew.  
There's no thing I'd keep from you…"_

After a minute of attempting to decipher his frazzled mind's depiction, there was a silent 'Fuck it' said in his mind. Eric concluded that if he couldn't remember the details, then it wasn't a worthy of consideration.

 _"_ _It's a dark and shiny place.  
But with you my dear.  
I'm safe and we're a million miles away…"_

Because… The man… The husband and father… The faction leader… He knew that everything was going to be alright for him. For their family.

 _"…_ _We're lying on the moon.  
It's a perfect afternoon.  
Your shadow follows me all day.  
Making sure that I'm  
Okay and we're a million miles away."_

Because she made everything feel alright. Just like right now.

* * *

 **~*oMLo*~**

"—the fire was able to be put out. Thankfully, there were no fatal injuries. In other news…"

The newscaster proceeded with her spiel. But Nasira couldn't pay attention to it. Her instinct was bugging her about an unknown energy. With a sigh fluttering from her full lips, she placed Eric's powered tablet on her the top of her right thigh. Her focus veered down to the site of her sleeping husband's head, which was now resting against her right flank. She peered into his handsome face and was comforted in the fact that he was still sleeping. She briefly observed the slightly parted lips and his smoothed out brow that was free from anxiety. Her right set of fingers performed a quick sweep across his forehead, before she erupted into a soft giggle.

'He wasn't sleeping. But, put him near me and watch him go out like a light,' she silently concluded.

Her fingers gave his free-flowing ringlets a run-through, which earned her a sluggish, groan of contentment from her husband. He subconsciously nuzzled the outer curve of her right thigh and his right, muscular arm which was draped over the tops of her knees performed a subtle squeeze.

Once again, the nagging sensation returned. 'Alright… What's wrong?' Her eyes peered down at her blanketed torso. 'Is it my stomach?' she pondered. 'It shouldn't be… The nurse said that everything was fine, when I asked. But let's checked anyway.' Her right hand peeled back the three layers of bed linens and she looked at her stomach. She observed, checking for any physical sign of distress. Once she concluded that she didn't have any signs of injuries, she placed the blanket down. 'Okay… Not that, then,' she established.

'Is it the room?'

Nasira looked away from herself and from her sleeping husband's whopping frame. Her line of sight landed on the small kitchen area that was directly across from her bed, two yards away. Her eyes checked for any evidence of smoking appliances, leaking faucets, the possibility of an over-flooding sink and if any of the cabinets' doors were left opened. Once again, her search came up with nothing that would prove to be dangerous. 'Okay,' her brain whimpered.

Her head slightly turned to her right, so her gaze could land on the small lounge area that was next to the kitchenette. Her eyes toured the appearances of the navy blue loveseat, the round eating table, the end tables and the four chairs that matched the dining table. Nothing was amiss. 'Okay,' she muttered in her head.

She looked to the windows and peered out of them. There was nothing wrong. No burning buildings. There wasn't a window cleaner hanging outside of her window, holding onto a rope for dear life. So, she moved on with her surveillance. It led her to the base of Lucien's temporary bed. Her dark brown eyes scanned the thin layer of linens that graced her son's bed, which wasn't too much of a flaw. But it was nothing to be overly concern about. 'Okay, that's… Alright.' Her vision's act of surveillance ascended up the length of the bed. 'Alright. Alright. Alright. Alright. Alright…' She came across the beginning point of a bulge in the blanket. Her instinct reminded her of Lucien's presence. 'Alright. I am coming across…' Her eyes took in the sight of the bruised face that belonged to Lucien as his dark gray orb was staring at her. '…Noth…' Then she was struck with enlightenment just as her eyes numbly watched the boy show off a smile. 'Oh my God,' she silently sputtered, in her brain while her body exploded with surprise.

A stream of short breaths and stammering words spilled from her lips, which caused the six year-old boy to unleashed hushed, giggles into his hands.

Nasira eventually found her voice. "L-Luke?" she stuttered as she gave him a wide-eye stare.

Lucien removed his fingers away from his mouth and revealed a toothy smile to his mother. "Hi, Mama," he sweetly greeted, despite his voice sounding weathered and craggy.

Waves of heat covered her skin and her heart began to batter her breastplate. A tender sob spilled from her lips. She used the back of her right hand to cover her lips to smother out any impending ones.

Lucien brought his left index finger to his pursed lips. " _Shhh!_ " His 'shush' came out too fast and less flowing than a normal one. "Daddy's sleepin'," he reported into the side of his finger.

Nasira's weeping eyes peeped Eric's cuddling form. "Oh!" she softly squealed, feigning surprise. "You're right…" She looked over to their son. "…You're right, Luke. I totally forgot that he was sleeping…"

"It's alright… 'ama," the child assured her.

"…I guess that we have to be quiet," she reported to him.

Lucien nodded his head. "We have to be… _Quiet_ ," he confirmed.

"Okay," she whimpered. Her fingers dried her stained cheeks. "How are you? How you're feeling, baby boy?" she queried, seconds later.

"I'm good," he chirped. "My voice…" he stated as his fingers touched his throat.

"Does your throat hurt?" she asked him, noticing his hand's gesture.

"A little," he stated as he nodded his head.

"A little," she repeated. "I think that the nurse might have something for that. Okay?" After watching her son respond with a head nod, she asked, "Luke, have you been up for long?"

"Yeah," he croaked. "But I didn't want to bother you while you were watching TV," he notified her.

" _Oh no_ … _Baby_ , you could've said something. You must've been up for long enough…" Her eyes glimpsed at the panel of buttons that were on the interior of the rail. "…Are you hungry? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Or some—

"Mama, I'm hungry," he confessed.

"You're hungry? Well, okay… I think that we can…" Her voice trailed off. She sniffled as she wiped away more tears from her face. "Let me call a nurse…" She glanced at her son. "…Maybe she can get you something to eat. Okay?"

"Okay, Mama."

"Okay," she murmured.

Nasira eyed the panel again. Her fingertips brushed against an array of plastic buttons as she read their labels. When she found the one that she was looking for, she pressed the alert button.

Two minutes later, a tired Nurse Helena Howlett entered the 'Coulter-Coulter' suite to answer an 'alert' call that came from the room. She was expecting to take care of a pressing concern for the Dauntless faction leader. Instead, she entered the suite and was greeted by both mother and son, who soon asked about food.

Four minutes later, a hungry Lucien had received his meal of potato wedges with a side of tomato sauce. He cheerily hummed throughout the meal.


	10. Epilogue: All that Glitters ain't Gold

**Author's Note** :

"Hey! What happened to Anissa?"

*smiles deviously*

 **PAIRING** : Eric/OFC

 **RATING** : RATED M FOR "MATURE"/ NC-17

 **WARNINGS** : THE FOLLOWING FAN FIC IS AN A/U, NON-CANON WORK OF FICTION. ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FROM VERONICA ROTH "THE DIVERGENT SERIES" ARE OOC, IN THIS FIC. THERE ARE ADULT THEMES AND MATURE CONTENT IN THIS WORK OF FICTION. ADULT LANGUAGE. STRONG USE OF VIOLENCE.

 **DISCLAIMER** : I DON'T OWN THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN "THE DIVERGENT SERIES". JUST THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS IN THIS TALE.

* * *

 ***~oMLo~***

Epilogue: All that Glitters ain't Gold

"—Tragedy struck in the _Iron Side Section_ of the Dauntless territory, mid-Saturday morning…"

Hazel-brown orbs lifted their gaze from off of the road and slapped it onto the dashboard's radio. Her right hand let go of the steering wheel, so the fingers could adjust the volume to the radio. A second later, the radio deejay's voice filled the sedan's cabin.

"…A twenty-nine-year-old mother and her six-year-old son were brutally attack…"

 _'…her six-year-old son…'_

 _'…her six-year-old son…'_

The old image of a small, curly-haired boy, ran through her mind. The old memory was of a meager incident that occurred in Dauntless' Memorial Plaza. Her eyes managed to catch a glimpse of Eric, in all of his domestic splendor, and a pair of children as they surveyed the territory's structures. The curly-haired child was one of the children that was with him. She was able to view enough to know that the child was his eldest kid, the one that he had sired when he was still trying to "persuade" her to breakup from Patrick. The child was a spitting image of Eric, when he was a child. The only differences between them were the eye color and the skin tone. Whereas, Eric carried a naturally-pale, white tone, this child's skin was a light shade of brown. The skin tone reminded the doctor of melted butter, melted toffee and the lightest shade of a peach's skin. It also reminded her of the color that was attached to piss, as well.

' _Now-now, Anissa_ …' the phantom, Madeline lightly scolded. ' _Never allow anybody to make you feel angry. Anger is a wasteful emotion! Especially… When the object of your anger is another woman_.'

"…According to witnesses, a shrouded figure approached the woman as she was getting into her vehicle and then he opened fire. First, the assailant opened fire on the child, striking the boy as he sat in the backseat of the vehicle. The mother, in what appeared to be in a state of anger, attacked the assailant. Then, according to the witnesses, the assailant began to open fire on the woman, striking her. The suspect, then, fled on foot…"

'Mmmmm…' she hummed, feeling a bit of regret about letting Aidan take control of the plan. 'He could've given the idiot an unmarked car to drive. Or, he could've escorted him to the apartment and then waited for him, so he could escape. It would've been better that way… Could've killed him, then. Rather than wait until later. But you know what? I'm not going to dwell on it anymore. What's done is done. He'll handle that part.'

"…We've tried to speak with officers from Dauntless P.D., in hopes of obtaining more information, in regards to the identities of the victims. Or, at least, more information about the shootings…"

'Like those yokels have a goddamned clue… They spend most of their time, chasing skate-boarders away from the Plaza and harassing the faction-less than doing actual police work. I bet, when they got that call, they jizzed themselves in excitement. It's better than breaking up fights between drunks, down in The Pit.'

"…But, we turned away and they declined to comment…"

'That's because… They don't have anything,' concluded Anissa.

Her eyes focused on the familiar structure, which was the twenty-four storied building that served as the official medical facility for Dauntless that was several feet away.

"…In regards to the identities of the mother and son, we still don't know…"

'It's your _precious leader's_ wife and his bastard-son.'

 _'Now-now—_

" _Can it, mother_ ," her lips spewed.

Her eyes glimpsed at the radio before her fingers reached down and turned it off. Silence soon filled her car, right before she pulled up to the sloping driveway that led to the parking garage's gate. She commandeered her vehicle to drive alongside the ticket meter device.

 _"You can't fucking measure!"_

The hair that graced the back of her neck rose. Yet, it didn't rise as fast as her sense of indignation. A hiss escaped her clenched teeth just as she stabbed the slot of the machine, with her kiosk card. Her eyes, then, watched the automatic barricade lift up, allowing her admittance into the employee parking garage.

 _"…The only thing that you've represented in my life was fucking death… The only reason why you're going on and on about my life, about my wife and everything else is because you have nothing!"_

This time, Eric's sardonic tone filled her mind and fed into her anger as she turned the ignition off for her car's engine.

 _"You're fucking mediocre. You're just a beautiful face amongst the sea of beautiful faces."_

For two months, the time that managed to pass since that encounter, the verbal barbs that he doled out from that intense argument stung. Like it was sulfuric acid. It stung at her spirit and soul. His insults managed to leave a lasting mark on her sense of pride. His words caused that iron-clad armor that was her ego to corrode, just like metal when its exposed to acid.

 _"The only thing that you've represented in my life was fucking death… The only reason why you're going on and on about my life, about my wife and everything else is because you have nothing! Without my ass, you wouldn't even be here in Dauntless. You've would've been in Erudite, with your mother, trying to fleece decrepit old geezers in low-rent, country clubs!"_

For every trace of the tutelage that Madeline has bestowed upon her, Eric's rant managed to dispute everything, within the span of five minutes.

 _"You're fucking mediocre—_

" _Enough_!" she screamed. "Enough! **_ENOUGH_** —

Her hands folded into fists and then she began to clobber at the round curves of her steering wheel. Her hands became bombarded with pain, but her rage ordered her to bear it.

 _"Mmmm… And he said 'what'?!" Madeline, then, chuckled. Her joyful voice slithered from out of the cell phone's earpiece and into her ear. The underlying meaning behind her mother's joy was very evident. She found joy in Anissa's brief state of misery. "And… You allowed it?!" Then there was an arrogant grunt, an expression of Madeline's sense of distaste. "I can't believe that you would allow that man talk to you that way. I… I remember him. I remember when he was just a scrawny, dirty little street rat that you used to show mercy to. He was a skinny, little thing. Plus he used to… Stut-Stut-Stut-Stutter!" Another chuckle floated from the phone's earpiece. " I can't believe it. You allowed that… Lice-bait, to talk to you, like that." There was another chuckle from the elder, Erudite-bred woman. It was beginning to breed a strand of condescending, now. "I told you to never put all of your eggies in one little basket, Anissa! I told you… To leave yourself open and keep your options available! Keep a mystery about yourself, dear! Never let a man get all of you! Flirt-flirt-charm the pants off of men! My Goodness! But, noooo… You decided to put all of your money on that one raggedy, drug-addicted, wonky… Race horse, all because he was a leader to a bunch of gun-crazy morons and he managed to get some muscles! Muscles! Muscles and good looks! My God, girl! You're supposed to look for men that can take care of you! Men, who can take care of you for the rest of your life! You shouldn't waste your beauty, your charm and-and… Your power… On some young, handsome man with muscles! That's going to be your downfall, Anissa! You're foolish and young enough to go and chase after some young guy with a nice body and… WHAM! You're going to end up with a baby, an out-of-shaped body and poor! All because you saw a good-looking guy with a nice—_

" **SHUT… UPPPP**!" Anissa screamed into her steering wheel. " **SHUT! UPPP! SHUT—**

Her fists continued to unleash their hatred against the steering wheel. In her state of fury, she saw Eric's smug face and the finely-manipulated, porcelain-skinned face that belonged to her mother. She fantasized having her small fists pound and tear at their flesh. She could see the looks of terror on their faces while they tried to shield themselves with their hands.

 **"BLOONNKKK!"**

The sudden erupting sound from her car's horn managed to cut into her enraged state, by frightening her. There was a sharp gasp and a strong flinch from her seated frame. A pair of wide, tear-filled eyes took in the sights of her hands' current appearance. Her left hand was still in a combative state, balled up in a fist and it was a centimeter away from the steering wheel's surface. Her right, balled-up hand was in mid-air, on its way to becoming another weapon for her. Both appendages possessed reddened flesh and waves of pain. Anissa looked away from her hands and she made a glimpse to the steering wheel. Then, her bleary vision took a shaky glance at her car's windshield and she peered at the dismal, concrete-paved scenery that was on the other side, still in confusion.

' _What_?' she silently whimpered as she stared into the garage.

A sniffled escaped from her nose, before she began to survey her car's interior, more out of nervousness than it was about looking for something. Her line of sight ventured up and to the site that belonged to the rear view mirror. The young, Dauntless woman was met with her reflection. _'Oh God!_ ' she called out in alarm, in her head. During her raging moment, she managed to ruin her makeup and slightly muss up her hair. Her tears managed to cut through the layers of foundation and concealer, as well as, cut through the makeup that covered her eyelids. Her cheeks glistened with spent tears, which managed to leave tracking marks. She was able to spot the family of reddened blemishes on her cheeks and chin. It appeared to the doctor that her latest break-out was mocking her as she stared at their reflection.

"Oh…God," she muttered.

She looked away and she peered at the front passenger's seat. Her view landed on the black, leather knapsack that was casually resting on the seat. With a rapid snatch of the bag's straps, she then brought the bag to her lap. Fingers began a hasty search through the interior of her backpack, rudely brushing aside products that she didn't need at the moment. Her eyes looked for the familiar plastic packaging that carried her makeup products. Once discovered, she snatched up each item and she began the task of making corrections to her face. Her lips hummed and lowly sang as she patted another layer of foundation down onto her cheeks. _"…Mmmm… I feel pretty… Oh, so pretty… I feel pretty and witty and bright… And I pity any girl that isn't me tonight…"_ As she reapplied her beauty products, her mind began to undergone a peculiar war with itself. Memories' snippets that involved her mother and Eric played out, yet, it was her mind that forced those images to go away.

Once she was finished, Anissa gave her reflection another look-over. A tight-lipped smile of satisfaction took over her lips, when she detected no flaw in the reapplication. Her eyes did peep the case of pinkness that covered the sclera in both of her eyes, the only evidence of her previous crying bout. But she knew that the mild discoloration would disappear within the next hour. Her glossy, plump lips issued an air-kiss to her reflection and then a toothy smile. "Alright… Let's go and amaze them, once more, for the day," she stated to the reflected image. She looked away from the mirror and then restored all of her tools back into the bag. With a quick fastening, she performed a swift surveillance of the interior to make sure there wasn't any sign of disarray. Once satisfied with the outcome, she removed her keys from the ignition and then made her exit from the vehicle.

As her clogged-covered feet strolled through the garage level, she occasionally came across her fellow colleagues. They were either walking passed her to get their own vehicles, all of which carried expressions of relief on their faces, or, they were walking passed her and muttering words of displeasure. She found herself slightly responding to their piss-poor attitudes with a snarl of her lips.

 _"Doctor Howard?"_

Anissa's ears picked up the calling of her name and her brain quickly alerted her of the caller's identity. The masculine voice was a friendly familiar, she assessed. The young woman came to a halt and turned around to face the man. Her eyes immediately picked up the image of another one of her colleagues, the medical chief-of-staff, Dr. Roderick Kader. Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise while blood rushed to her ears, making her hear a low stream of buzzing.

 _'Doc…Tor_ Kader,' her interest purred.

Her hazel eyes took in the physique that was a few feet in front of her.

 _"Muscles! Muscles and good looks! My God, girl! You supposed to look for men that can take care of you! Men, who can take care of you for the rest of your life!"_

Anissa secretly snorted in disagreement. _'Well, Mother_ , Kader is _old enough_ for you to like and a little something for me… Best of both worlds,' she concluded as she continued to stare at him.

Dr. Roderick Kader was in his late-forties, but he carried the physique that was similar to the younger men in Dauntless. According to Anissa, he had the kind of body that most of the men in Dauntless possessed, right before their marriages and their wives would make them become fat. The kind of frame that was adorned with muscles and a moderate-sized frame. There was skin that carried the tone that reminded her of her own mixed-heritage. There was a natural tan tint to his flesh, which she knew that didn't come from the sun. It made the silver and the gray strands of his hair shine.

"Doctor…Kader… Good-Good morning," she greeted in a soft and polite tone, which was a total contrast to her actual mood. A toothy smile slithered across her mouth. "How are you doing, this morning?"

The older gentleman took a breath as the corners of his lips turned north. "Good morning, Dr. Howard," he cheerfully greeted. His hands slipped into his pockets. "I am doing okay, this morning. _And you?"_

Anissa softly nodded her head. "I am doing okay, myself. I'm… I'm about to head into the clinic to start my shift," she reported.

" _Ah_ … You're working the Pediatrics wing, today?" he asked as his left, silver-strand eyebrow slightly raise.

"No," she answered with a shake of her head. " _Urgent care_ ," she corrected him.

" _Aww, man_!" Dr. Kader playfully groaned. " _That's a bummer_ ," he joked.

Anissa unleashed a giggle. As the tail end of her laughter approached, her right hand purposely reached up, to her right temple. Fingertips brushed a lock of her soft hair behind her right ear. 'Alright… Let's see if he's really noticing me.' She made a glimpse to an insignificant object that was behind him. " _Yeeeaahhh_ ," she slightly drawled. "I'm… Working Urgent Care. But… _You know what_? It is not-so-bad working down there. Time goes by pretty quickly for me," she told him.

She knew that she needed to maintain a positive outlook to her work. Well, she needed _to appear_ that she had a positive outlook about her occupation. Especially when she was having a conversation about her job with her supervisor's _supervisor_. Anissa figured, if she couldn't share a marriage bed with Dr. Kader, then she would settle for gaining a new career position, in which she held some power and a corner office, perhaps next to one of the clinic's cabinet members.

" _Soooo_ … What about you? Where you're heading off to, so early this morning?" she inquired.

" _Me?"_ The silver-haired, handsome doctor used his left hand to point to himself, using his _'Aww, shucks'_ tone of voice. It definitely gave away signs of his Amity-pedigree, to Anissa. "Well… I am heading over to Erudite, right now," he broadcasted to her.

'Oh… _Really_? There's plenty of experienced doctors over in Eru—

 _"You're a doctor, but so is the hundreds of doctors that are living in this city! You're just a glorified nurse."_

Both rows of molars gnashed against each other while a hot-tempered, exhale was slowly excreted from her nose. The small measure of happiness that she felt, for the past few minutes, evaporated. Her once-dormant, anger managed to wrestle back to the surface.

Then, the image of the curly-haired boy and his brown-skinned mother, flashed through her mind.

A notion formed in her mind. 'What are the odds…? _Mmmm_ … If they're in Landsteiner and Popper right now...' Her mind's voice trailed off just as her manicured eyebrows rose a little. " _Oh… Really?"_ Her arms folded across her chest. "Are you heading over there for one of their symposiums?" With her attempt at fishing for information, a look of feigned awe appeared on her face. "I've _been trying_ to attend one of their symposiums since my first year as a…"

Dr. Kader raised his left hand while his head softly shook. " _No-no-no_ …" His hand dropped after he noticed that she had stopped speaking. "…I am going there for a volunteer medical mission. I am going to Landsteiner-Popper to help perform a surgery."

"Dr. Kader… Who's the person that's getting the surgery?" she asked, feeling a bit hopeful.

The medical, chief-of-staff unleashed an uneasy laugh. It was the kind of sign that said he was about to violate the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act.

"It's… One of the _leaders_ from the faction. He's… Having a triple by-pass surgery and being that I am… _More equipped_ , when it comes to this type of surgery, I am heading over there to orchestrate the process," Dr. Kader announced.

Disappointment filled her spirit like it was an unexpected downpour. " _Oh_ ," she softly groaned, which easily could've been misconstrued as a sign of sympathy for the patient. "Well, they have the best man for the job," she remarked.

The gentleman lightly chuckled. "Well… Thank you, for your encouraging words, Anissa." He gave a glance from over his left shoulder. He was unaware that his young colleague was assessing his physicality, during his glancing. He turned back to her. "I must go," he announced. "I want to head over there before traffic becomes worse." The doctor took a step forward and he extended his right hand in front of him, a wordless request for a handshake.

Anissa obliged his request. "I hope that your surgery is successful today, sir," she told him.

"Thank you, again, Anissa. I hope that you're day goes by quickly," he wished.

"Thank you!" she chirped.

Both hands detached and each appendage doled out a wave to each other.

Anissa gave her next target a glimpse to go along with the smile, before she turned away. To make sure that she left the doctor with a lasting image of her, her hips began to sway along with her steps. The smile became deeper, when there was faint wave of heat against her back. 'He's staring... He likes me,' she silently cooed.

' _Ooooh_ , a _doctor_! _How_ _exciting_!' _the_ _phantom_ _Madeline_ _echoed_ _in_ _her_ _head_.

"Hush," she muttered as she approached the black, metal door that led to the stairwell. "There's no need to hear…" Her hands pushed at the metal door. "…your voice." She entered the well-lit stairwell and then began to ascend the first round of stairs.

Taking the stairs rather than ride an elevator to the fifth floor was Anissa's mode of fitness, for her work days. The heart-racing method of transportation also allowed the doctor to run through her daily itinerary. Or, whatever medical-related quandary that she was in charge of solving.

As she reached the top of the staircase that led to the entrance of the second floor, nine minutes later, her calves' muscles burned as well as her chest. Plus, she managed to go through half of her list of tasks. Her almond-shaped eyes performed a quick sweep in the small alcove between the two staircases. Her feet made a few steps into the direction of the gray, concrete wall that was facing her. She attempted to soothe the raging beast that was running rampant inside of her chest. "Okay…" she huffed. "…There's…S-Six more… Six more flights," she panted. Her clog-covered feet performed a turn into the direction of the next ascending, staircase. _'Why…?_ Why-in the-hell am I…So breathless?' she pondered as her right foot landed on the first step.

Another four minutes passed and another round of staircases were climbed. 'Third floor,' she announced, as her left foot touched the top step. 'Two more to go.' She turned the corner, which led to the first step of the seventh staircase. As she lifted her right foot, she was struck by an invisible force. _'Wha…?_ ' It smelled like a manufactured fragrance. She was able to swiftly conclude that it was men's cologne. The scent, which held the overpowering smells of cut cedar wood, pine and a hint of amber oil, was too strong of a fragrance for a woman. _'Mmmm…_ ' A matching moan escaped from her throat. '…I wonder which doctor's wife brought him a bottle of cologne.'

Anissa's feet climbed to the center of the staircase as she continued to take in the residue from the very pleasant scent. Meanwhile she kept her head straight ahead, as well as, her gazes. Subconsciously, the young doctor expected to be greeted by a gray, dingy concrete wall, as she grew closer to the top step. Her hazel-hued sight, instead, was met with pure darkness, which was mixed with strips of gray. _'What the... FFF—_

Her vision became sharper and it landed on the appearance of a Dauntless man. He dressed in black, medical scrubs. He carried the bearing of a man, who didn't have a thing to worry about. He stood in the stairwell with the same level of regard that one would have at a public, bus stop: his weight was leaning against the wall, feet were hip-width apart with his left foot was pressed to the wall and the right foot kept him up. His head was bowed and he was staring down at the phone that was in his right hand. His left hand was slightly tucked behind his left thigh.

Her widened in diameter while she became filled with a mild layer of surprise. The fragrance came back, but the waves were strong enough to knock her over. 'What the fuck…?' she secretly breathed as she took in the intriguing yet peculiar image. She knew that he was the kind of man that she should avoid, especially when they were alone in a stairwell. But there was something about the frightful energy that was radiating off of him that made this stranger very alluring to her senses.

Anissa rapidly learned that she sighed too loudly, too late, as she watched the stranger lift his curly-haired head and his gaze landed on her. "Shhh-it," she softly cursed.

Like the handsome Dr. Kader and a certain demographic from the male population in Dauntless, this silent and beguiling stranger carried his physique like he was a superhero. He was monumental in size, Anissa guessed that he had to be taller than six-feet and three inches tall. He carried his weight just as well as his towering height. Broad and strapping shoulders that gave way to a pair of short-sleeved, muscular arms that held his tats and scars like they were badges of honor. He was being carried by a pair of legs that were also long and thick, possibly with more muscles, underneath his pants. The skin that was exposed to her eyes were the coloring of bronze. The irises from his eyes, besides carrying the imposing aura, also held onto a deeper shade of hazel-brown. Right above his intimidating glare, there were a pair of hirsute brows that lacked upkeep, but didn't deter his sex appeal. Her eyes caught a slight flaw in his right brow, in what appeared to be a scar.

' _He's_ … He's going to be fun to break in,' she concluded as a ghost of a smile appeared to her lips.

Her lips slightly parted, which was an initiative to speak and then she quickly clamped her lips shut. She realized that this big beast was a man, who had his fair share of women throwing themselves at him. And she wasn't going to be one of them. So, she knew that she needed to exude the power that she possessed. Otherwise, Madeline's tutelage would've been wasted.

'You can't ignore him,' her libido called out. _'You can't_.'

A tight-lipped grin slowly danced its way onto his lips while his eyes remained focused on her.

 _'Hmm…_ ' Anissa grunted in her mind. '…If he thinks that this is going to be a case of the wolf finding a hare, then he has another thing coming. I'm just as much of a wolf…'

There was an audible inhale just as his shoulders reared back. " _Miss_ _Howard_ …" he precipitously greeted her. His voice… It was smooth as glass and just as sharp, as well as, rumbling.

Her glossed lips parted and made a sharp exhale. A throbbing erupted into her toned, concealed stomach and then it sank down into her sex, where it dissolved into a light puddle of pulsations.

He pulled away from the concrete wall and took a step forward. "…please to meet you," he practically growled. His top lip performed a flicker of a snarl. " _Goliath Grant the Second_ ," he grunted, introducing himself.

' _What_?' she silently scoffed as a cocky and lopsided grin took a hold of her lips. ' _Grant_ …. Grant…Grant…Grant…' The recited surname kept being repeated inside of her mind in a chant. The name sounded familiar to the young, Dauntless woman.

'…Grant…Grant…Grant…Grant…Grant…Grant…Gran—

Her wave of concentration was disrupted, when a flashing image of a toffee-skinned little boy with a headful of blond coils managed to pop up in her mind.

Realization struck her consciousness like it was a thunder bolt from the god Zeus, himself.

The arrogant smirk quickly faded from her lips. The joy and the desire that was laced in her orbs, evaporated.

The fear swiftly took over, along with the widening of her eyelids. A flash of bright whiteness took a hold of her vision and then a shade of deep red. A blanket of frigidness wrapped itself around her skin and it was forth a wave of numbness that nipped at her skin.

" _N-No_ …" her plush lips breathed, in shock. "… _N-N-No…N-N-No_ …"

Anissa's instinct for protection immediately filled her soul, even before her fear could fully settle in. Her clog-covered feet took immediate action by making backward steps, descending down the staircase and into the path that she had just taken. Her fingers scaled down the metal bannister as she slowly descending the staircase. Frightful eyes kept their gaze on the ominous and intimidating figure that was glowering her as if she was his prey.

'…No…No…No…No…No…N-No… N-No…N-No…' her brain whimpered out in fear.

A seed of pressure managed to bloom inside of her chest, making it difficult for oxygen to pass through her lungs and for her breaths to be expelled in shuddering pants.

 ** _'GET_** … **_AWAY_**!' her logic and instinct screamed at her.

Behind her eyelids, she was met with the image of her sedan as it was parked in its assigned parking spot, in the garage. A reminder of the destination that she needed to head to, before this monster could grab her.

' ** _GGGGO_** , **_AH_** - ** _KNEE_** - ** _SA_** —

Even though her consciousness waded in the thick muck that was her fear and her shock, she was able to listen to her instincts. Her body began to obey, by fleeing. Her soul hoped by fleeing and making it to her car, where she'll drive away from this place. Her fingers released the hold that they wielded against the steel railing. Then, she was met with a quick blur of gray and a breeze as her body sliced through the air, when she turned her back to the menacing Grant. Her shoes' soles found their bearings against the stone steps. She began a choppy and rushed path down the remaining stairs. As her feet pounded the stairs, her dulled sense of hearing caught the sounds of her light panting and the muted-down beats of her pumping heart.

 _Cut cedar wood. Pine. And, a hint of amber oil._

The three scents filled up her nose, once more.

A band of fleshy, strength crudely wrapped her shoulders and causing her arms to be bound tightly against her torso. There was a force, which snatched her clogged-covered feet from off of the steps and her back into a firm wall of heat.

"Where do you think you're going, _mmm_?"was crudely growled into her ear.

 _Cut cedar wood. Pine. And, a hint of amber oil._

The fragrance now clogged up her mouth, along with her nostrils.

Her lips parted, which was a sign for her brain to help in releasing a scream. A scream that would've been so powerful that it would alert her colleagues and the police that walked the halls of the clinic. A scream so overwhelming that it would cause Dauntless soldiers to enter the stairwell and come to rescue her. A scream that would've been so powerful that it would cause bullets to rain down on this monster.

" _Oh no_ ," she heard crooned into her right ear, a taunting. "Oh, _no_ - _no-no-no_ - _no_ …" He was close. _Too close to her_. "… _no_ - _no_ - _no_. We're just getting…" His voice was drowned out by the booming noise of electric crackling.

Pain. Breath-stealing, burning pain. It began in an insignificant spot that was on her lower back and by her right hip. Then this breath-stealing, burning pain shot through her body, leaving every muscle locked and seized.

There should've been a scream. One, in which it was so powerful that it would've summoned a legion of the best Dauntless soldiers. Instead, the cement walls were gifted with a stream of pathetical garbled, hoarse whimpers.

That powerful scream remained lodged in her mind until everything had gone black.

* * *

~* **oMLo** *~

When Lila Devereaux stood on her back porch, it was usually considered to be ordinary by everyone that lived in Amity. Hell, even the non-Amity citizens would've considered the act to be innocuous. But amongst the three-thousand and thirty-nine residents that lived in the faction of peace, catching Lila standing on her porch would've been considered to be one of the town's staple. It was well-known amongst the small faction's population that Lila loved her farmhouse's porch. In fact, for the 66-year-old woman, the wraparound porch was the main selling point for her, when it came to purchasing this property.

For Lila, having a house that contained a wraparound porch was a desire that she held since girlhood. After moving into the house and on the property, with her first husband and their two children, the porch became her favorite haunt. This was the place where she loitered on most of her days, when she was a young woman. She practically took care of her children, five out of the seven children, on this porch. This was the place, where she took her squalling babies to calm them down. She would sit on any of the porch's chairs and would nursed them. Shit, _she even gave birth_ to her youngest one on this porch, after Bull refused to take her to the hospital, because he didn't "believe in them".

So, no, seeing Lila Devereaux stand on her house's porch wasn't considered to be 'out of the ordinary'. But, the act of standing on her back porch, at 2:38 in the morning was what made the loitering act, so out of the ordinary.

Under normal circumstances, the gruff grandmother would've been in bed, enjoying the remaining one hour and thirty minutes of sleep, before having to wake up at 4:00AM. If this early morning was like any of her other mornings, then she wouldn't have been standing there, fully-dressed and partaking in her 'morning cigarette' so goddamned early.

As she smoked her cigarette, which was perched in between her full lips, her charcoal-gray eyes were focused on the battered, aged structure that was close to one-hundred and fifty yards away. Her eyes took in the sight of her barn, with its weathered walls and rusty, inoperable weather vane that was mounted on the roof. Every so often, her eyesight and her attention, would become distracted. They would drift and then land on the site that contained the chip-painted, double doors. Lila would stare at those doors and at the beams of light that poured from every crease.

Plus, there was the woman and those screams that currently inhabited the inside of the barn. They were also distracting, as well.

They began, soon after Little Goliath arrived to her farm, with _her_. Lila was expecting her nephew to make this late-night visit, after she received a phone call from his mother, her sister, Davina. ' _Vina'_ called on late Saturday night, right after Lila settled in for the night. She expected for the call to be another 'progress report' about her niece and her grand-nephew, ever since they were still in that Erudite hospital. Instead, she received news about her nephew's impending arrival. Even though her baby sister didn't outright mention the arrival of Little Goliath's traveling companion, the old woman did know something was up. She gathered that much just by noticing the change in Vina's voice. The tone and its inflection was too high in mood and it was too polite, as well as, impersonal.

The voice-tone reminded Lila of their mother's voice as she spoke to their neighbors, when they came to the front door to make "wellness checkups" on the family. The impromptu visits usually came on the mornings after their father would spend most of the nights beating up on them. Lila, as a child and as a teenager, would listen to that high-pitched and impersonal voice as it spilled words of assurances to concerned neighbors, or, to the Dauntless patrol officers that were summoned by those same concerned neighbors. Of course, these words were spoken from the other side of the front door, which also served as a shield for their mother. That door was a multi-purpose, household tool in that home, Lila thought. That thin, sheet of oak was strong enough to keep the truth contained inside of their turbulent home, it hid their mother's shame, kept their neighbors at bay and the concerned social workers standing on the porch.

So, once Lila heard Davina's tone and the message, she knew that she had to break out the 'welcoming mat' for her nephew and whatever fuck-shit that was coming onto her property.

Little Goliath didn't arrive until around midnight, early Sunday morning. He came pulling up in her farmhouse's driveway, in a black Ford-styled pickup truck that would've made any Amity farmer envious. She welcomed her nephew, of course, despite internally recoiling due to the precarious energy that was radiating from off of his form. A brief and curt flashback of memory ran through her mind after their customary hug. The memory caused a chill to grip onto her flesh, making goose-pimples appear.

After more pleasantries were exchanged, she was shown the reason for his impromptu and late-night visit. With a casual demeanor, her late brother-in-law's namesake pulled the black, plastic tarp from off of the truck's flat-bed. Lila performed a subtle glimpse into the flat-bed and caught the view of a Dauntless woman. She was bound and gagged, laying on the floor. At first, the oldest Devereaux sister thought that Little Goliath kidnapped a child, because this person was a small, twig-of-a-woman. So, she peered into the flat-bed, again. It was indeed a woman. Judging by the black, now-wrinkled medical scrubs, Lila assumed that the captured woman was a medical professional. Those same dark gray eyes focused on the woman and observed her current condition. The bound woman was displaying signs of distress. Her tiny body shook while releasing sounds of repetitive sobs. The cries were muffled by the thick knot of rope that was violently lodged into her mouth. Her face was mildly swollen from the persistent sobbing and it was also stained with redness, as well as, tears. She had her ankles and wrists in a hog-tie fashion, where both sets were bound by the same thick rope.

Lila, once again, allowed her vision to trace the rope's journey as it was entwined around the small sets of limbs. She could _feel it_. _She knew_ that this act of forced bondage was another message from Vina.

 _'Hog-tied… Hogs… Feed her to the hogs._ '

Curiosity got the best of her, which led to the elderly farmer to ask her nephew about Davina's purpose for wanting this woman to be made into pig feed. With just a few grunted words, which could've been misconstrued as being disinterested in the activity, Goliath Junior explained that this woman... _This small, twig-of-a-woman_... Was involved in the attacks against Nasira and her little boy. Upon listening to his words, Lila's eyes focused, again, on the woman. She eyed Little Goliath's captured prey as the fire grew in her chest, making her face grow hot. She silently recalled snippets of that terse conversation she had with Davina, after she learned about the shootings. She recalled Vina's gulping and shuddering breaths. There were the recollection of hearing the exact words, which gave Lila the insight about the assault, when it was screamed into her ear by a hysterical Davina.

With the fading memories' remains still in her mind, she turned away from the view and she glared at her nephew. Then, with a deceptively-calmed voice, she enlightened the young man that her collection of twenty sows weren't fed since the afternoon of the previous day. She ran out of feed and she foolishly forgot to re-stock her supply. Then, she told him that her pigs' health were important to her, so he needed to take "precautions" before this twig-of-a-woman was even thrown into their feeding pen. Once she recited the list of feeding instructions to him, she was met with a soft grunt and a curt nod of his head. Then, she watched her towering nephew snatch the writhing and crying woman from out of his flat-bed. He tossed her onto his shoulder and he proceeded to carry her as if she was a sack of refined earth.

As Goliath Junior walked off, gray eyes met with a pair that carried a golden shade of brown. Even under the layer of muck that was her ruined makeup and the puddle of tears, she was able to see the desperation and abundance of fear. She continued to glare at Lila as she was carried closer to the barn's entrance. And, she remained in Lila's sight until she was carried inside.

Lila heard the first set of pain-filled wails around 1:00AM, close to an hour after their arrival. She was in the process of getting ready for bed again. The farmer was in the process of re-adjusting her night shirt's collar, when a warm breeze carried the echoes into her bedroom. At first, the old woman thought that it was a part of her imagination, but then a new round of faint screams were released into her bedroom. Lila felt the tingles run down the length of her spine and the gentle tugs of her own past come creeping to the forefront of her mind. _'No. No. No_ ,' she said to herself. _'This is different_ ,' she reminded herself. 'This is different.' With an inhale and then a hushed statement of "Serves her right" escaping from her mouth, she strolled up to her window and then her fingers drew it shut.

She managed to get an hour's worth of decent sleep before she awakened by her own volition. She surveyed the darkened walls and ceiling, before she came to the conclusion that she woke up on her own. Then, for the following twelve minutes, she stared at her room's ceiling and attempted to fall back into slumber's clutches. After being met with reminders of weeping, golden-brown eyes and first-hand accounts of being bound and fearful, she came to the conclusion that she wasn't going back to sleep. She slipped out of her bed with a huff from her mouth and then a muttered curse. She prepared for her impending day's activities.

It all eventually led up to this moment of Lila as she stood on her back porch and her sight on the pair of barnyard doors.

 _"Mama?"_

It was her youngest son's voice that snapped her out of the reverie. She heard the calling come from behind her, from the other side of the screen door and inside of the kitchen. She glanced over her right shoulder to stare the black, decorative, wrought-iron door. "Howie…" The familiar sounds of the iron, screen door being pushed, erupted. "…What are you doing…?" Then, it was followed by the sounds of footfalls against the porch's wooden floorboards. "…up?"

There was a soft chuckle. " _Mmmm_ … I can say the same about you, woman," Howie stated into the early-morning's air, before he joined his mother's side.

Lila glimpsed at her son's silhouette before she peered at the barn's doors again. "I couldn't sleep," she confessed. " _You?"_

"Me, too," her son notified her. "But I think that it has to do with my drive down from Dauntless, though."

The mere, innocuous mention of the military-faction caused a shiver to run down her spine. 'Speak…King, of Dauntless…' She eyed her son. An all-knowing smile crept up on her face. "So… _He_ didn't recognize you, _huh_?" she asked you.

" _No-pah_!" the man stated, emphasizing the one-word answer. The detective chuckled. "But… You can't blame him for that though, Mama. We, Devereauxes and Grants, breed like rabbits. _There's too many of us._ _We_ can't even keep us straight," he pointed out. "Do you remember the joke about us, around here?" There was a streak of soft chuckles from the Dauntless man. "If you throw a rock around any part of Amity, then you're bound to hit a Devereaux."

Lila smiled. " _Yeah_ …" Her dark gray orbs focused on the barn again. "…That's what they say."

Both mother and son fell into a stream of comfortable silence. The duo were serenaded by crickets and the occasional rustling sounds that came from the union between the trees and the wind. Lila thought this kind of moment would've been serene, _if_ it occurred under normal circumstances.

"Received word…" Howie started out with. "…from a nurse at Landsteiner that Nassy was released from the O.R…"

Relief. It rained down on her spirit, disintegrated the pent-up worry. She found her eyes closing and a soft grimace appearing on her face. 'Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank…'

"…She said that Nassy will be fine, now. Her condition is stabled. She's going to be staying in the Intensive Care Unit with Little Lukie-Boy, so they can looked after until they're one-hundred percent," explained Howie.

" _Oh_ …" Her right palm softly landed on her rising chest. "…Thank the Lor—

 _ **"AAAHHHHUUUUHHHH!"**_

Lila's body was maliciously gifted with fright, at the abrupt eruption of the wail. Her eyes snapped open just at the moment of her body's reaction.

 _ **"AAAAAAHHHHHHUUUUHHHH!"**_

Lila's attention soared across the vast field and she peered at the barn's entrance. Her sight locked on the now-cleared, doorway. The doors were now sluggishly swaying in a breeze.

 _ **"AAAAHHH…"**_

The husky, pain-filled wail drew her attention to the pair of shadowed figures that were a few feet away from the barn's entrance.

 _ **"…HHHHUUUUHHHHH…"**_

Both figures were avoiding being hit full-blast by the pathway's sconces. But Lila was able to see just enough. She noticed that the taller figure strolled behind the shorter, stumbling figure. The taller figure would force the smaller one to walk down the pathway, in the way of firm shoves to her back. 'Death march,' Lila's logic told her as she continued to watch.

 _ **"…HUUUUHHHHH—**_

The wail came to an abrupt end, when the smaller figure tripped and crashed, face-first, onto the pathway's asphalt-paved ground. Lila watched her land with a skin-crawling thud. More loud cries came from the now-prone form.

" _Oooh… Damn_ ," hissed Howie. His reaction earned him a side-eye glance from his mother.

She returned her glare to the fallen figure. She viewed the innocent-looking, twig-of-a-woman slowly as she scraped her limbs against the pavement, as she gradually slipped into a kneeling pose. In this new posture, the mysterious woman kneeled in front of a pair of facing sconces, putting her in a spotlight. The hogs' impending feed was now on full-display, to the farmer's sight. Lila's ears were then subjected to another on of this woman's wailings.

 _ **"AAAAHHHHHHHUUUUUHHHHH! AAAAHHHHUUUHHHHH! AHHH…"**_

Lila took note of the fact that Little Goliath took her list of precautions seriously. As she eyed the now-nude, kneeling woman, she detected no trace of hair on top of her bowing head. The thick, long mane that she viewed earlier was now gone with the exception of a few wisps of hair that danced in front of a light beam. The sobbing woman kept her face covered with the palms of her hands. She also were deprived of her fingers, if Lila's perception was correct. The farmer was standing too far away and the appendages were covered with too much blood. The old woman watch crimson strings crawl down the woman's forearms and then come to an end, once they dripped off of the points in her bent elbows.

 _ **"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"**_ the woman cried into her mutilated hands.

The taller and portentous, shadowed figure approached, stepping into the light. The elderly aunt and mother was witnessed to the unveiling of a pair of shins and parts of his thighs. Once he stood behind the crying woman's sloping back, he fell into a mode of stillness.

The woman sensed his presence near her because she sprung from her kneeling and she scampered across the pavement like a frightened critter. Using her wounded hands and feet, she ran a few feet before collapsing into a huddle in front of another sconce's light.

" _Up_!" Goliath's raised voice echoed through the property. By the time it reached Lila and Howie, the command sounded subtle.

The bundled ball of flesh and limbs broke out of her huddle and she turned onto her back, with a shriek escaping her mouth. A streak of chopping, guttural grunts spilled from the woman's lips as she eyed the taller shadow.

" _Up_!" Goliath shouted again.

'His voice,' her instinct called out to her. To the old woman, Little Goliath sounded angry; the kind of anger that comes along after being frustrated for far too long. To the antipathetic or even for the people, who could catch a glimpse of the scene, her nephew would've looked like enraged monster. But, Lila knew better. He was frustrated and angry, because...

'... _He doesn't want to do this_ ,' Lila quietly concluded.

A family of sobs and shakes escaped from the tortured woman's frame.

" _Get up!"_ the Dauntless soldier screamed. In response, she issued more hoarse cries. " _Get Up… Now_ ," he called out as his feet took several steps into her path. The action earned the morning's sky a litany of screams and sobs from the woman. "If you don't get up right now, then I…"

The threat was swallowed up by the sounds of her loud and heart-wrenching sobs.

 _'Stop... This.'_

 _ **"ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH OF THIS SHHH—"**_ Goliath Junior screamed out. His feet suddenly broke out of their stillness and formed a charging step. It led to a gathering of swift steps, which were aimed into her path.

 _'Lee... Stop. This... Now.'_

With water-soiled eyes, Lila watched her nephew ferociously charged forward.

 **"AHHH!** _ **AHHH! AHHH! AHHHH!"**_

 _'Lee...'_

An explosion of fearful screams pierced the air as their creator crab-crawled against the pathway's flooring. Her mode of defense was no match for Goliath and his charging. Within seconds, she was snatched up from of the ground. His steps carried them from out of the sconces' path, submerging them both into a thin veil of shadow.

 _'Lee... Please... Stop this.'_

She watched her sister's son pulled that woman from off of the ground by her throat and then proceeded to choke. The screams soon became cut off. She listened to the sounds that were now flooding the air: the feral groans of frustration that were coming from Goliath Junior and the gasping pleas for oxygen that were coming from the woman.

 _'Lee...'_

As Lila watched, her heart rapidly pounded against her chest.

'God help me,' she silently breathed.

* * *

~* **oMLo** *~

 _'God help me.'_

"God help us, woman," she heard Howie mutter, for the umpteenth time.

Her dark gray orbs peered at her youngest son as he filled up the bedroom's doorway.

"Cos, once Aunt 'Vina…"

Lila peered down at the sleeping face of the mysterious woman.

"…finds out that this filly is still breathing, _she is going to blow a gasket!_ She'll…" Then he muttered, "…probably have some drones come over here and blow this house up to smithereens."

" _Enough_ … Howie," she scolded her son.

Her eyes peered down at the left hand that was resting on her towel-covered right thigh. Her gloved, fingers held up the severed digits and she observed the new sutures that kept the wounds closed. 'Not bad, for an old-timer who haven't sutured within these past three years,' she silently congratulated herself. Her eyes performed a brief glimpse to the flooring that was beside both of her booted feet. Pooled at her boots, a family of rags and bloodied towels that were used during the impromptu treatments.

"Now…Let's not bullshit ourselves, here," she called out as her sight was traveling into her son's path. " _None of us_ … _Not any of us_ …Wanted this girl to be eaten by my sows…" Lila peered behind her, over at Goliath, who was sitting at the foot of the bed with his back to the three of them. "…Including, you, _Goliath_." Once she was met with his heated glare, she stated her case. "I can tell by these cuts, young man…" She glimpsed at the wounded hand. "…that you didn't want to do it. They're… _Sloppy_. Besides, most people would've just chopped off her hands… Or, rip the nails off."

" _Okay_ …" Howie huffed. He shifted his weight. "…you're right, Mama. _You're right_. We didn't want to … _Sink down to her level_ … Okay, you're right! But what are you planning on doing now?! The best things that I can come up with are dumping her in a factionless colony or having me take her to Dauntless and throwing her in jail, ever since there's a warrant for her arrest. Because…" Howie's head shook. "…You can't keep her here like she's some feral cat, Mama." He folded his arms across his chest. "Ma… She is dangerous. Do you honestly believe that once she wakes up from her sleep that she's going to be some…Harmless kitten?! She is not going to take this treatment, lying down. She's not like one of your wild horses that you've broken in! She is going to plot and she's going to try to escape!"

"Howie has a point, Auntie," Goliath Junior pointed out. He slightly turned his body in his seat, so he could stare at her. "She is not some… _Innocent bystander_ that's managed to come up on a crime scene. She's the reason why _my sister_ and _my nephew_ are laying up in some hospital, right now. _She actually planned on having my sister killed_ , Lee."

Lila softly nodded her head. "I know that, Goliath," she said pensively.

"Then, you should understand as to why this needs to be done," he indicated. "She is not going to wake up and be eternally grateful towards you. This girl is like that rattlesnake from the story that you used to tell us, when we were kids. And you'll be the 'Little Boy' from that tale," he warned.

Lila huffed, out of frustration and indignation. " _Okay!_ So… what do you think that I should do? _Mmmm_?" she asked her nephew. "Cos, every option that I can think of, all of them lead to one thing: _her death_." She looked to her son. "If you take her in and she's placed in The Land, then you might as well have a _bull's-fucking-eye tattooed_ on her forehead, because she will have a target on her back. Especially, since she's a pretty, young thing who can barely defend herself. If the Sisters don't get to her, then it will be the guards and if not the guards, then she's going to get killed by any of those male inmates after they had their fill and see no more use for her! Then, let's not forget about _your plan_ of dumping her into a factionless colony. What are the odds that she would make it out alive and not scarred? Cos, I can think of an answer, which is 'slim'?"

"And you'll end up dead, if she stays here with you," Goliath stated.

Another curt exhale was made from the older woman. It signified the beginning of a streak of silence, which lasted a mere minute.

"Mama…" Howie said softly, making his concern evident. "…why are you so…intent on having… _Her_ …stay here with you?"

Lila gave another second of her time to her son's appearance and then she gazed at the drugged and subdued woman, who was laying a few feet next to her. Her weathered hand gingerly placed the mutilated and abused hand onto the woman's blanketed stomach. Then, those same fingers made a grab for the plastic tube of healing ointment from off of the nightstand's tabletop. "Well, Howie…" she muttered as she unscrewed the cap. "...consider this to be a reminder of history," she announced. She placed a bit of the medicinal cream onto the sole of her covered, index finger. Then, she began to take care of the cuts and the scrapes. "I…" Her naturally husky tone rang out. "…can… Already see that you two have forgotten that I've just spent a little over twenty years of my life in The Land…" A latex-covered fingertip applied a layer of ointment to the tip of the woman's upturned nose, where a scrape had marred the site. "…for a crime that was just as heinous—

"But _that was different_ , Mama!" Howie protested. The emotion that was laced in his voice caused his mother to stare at him. He took a step into the bedroom. "You killed a monster, who… _It's different_!"

"I know," she croaked. The lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. She made a hefty inhale and on the exhalation, she uttered, "I know". She glanced down at the woman. "But it doesn't matter. Not in the eyes of the law, it didn't." Then, a thin layer of ointment was applied to the scrape that decorated her forehead. "I was still sentenced by a Candor judge and _a jury of my peers_ …" Then, under her breath, she muttered, "…while they were wearing their furs and diamond rings and thousand-dollar cuff links."

Lila became quiet, which led the way and conducted the ambiance in the room. During this period of intense stillness, she gazed down at the woman. Even she found her feeling of empathy and her sense of sympathy towards this woman, to be absurd. But, then that tiny-toned voice would appear and say to her that it wasn't right.

She closed her eyes and sank her head back, making her face point to the ceiling. There was a noticeable inhale and an exhale from her. "To be honest with you both… I'm…" A sob-sounding, sigh escaped her. "I'm… _Just… So-fucking-tired... I'm tired_ of hearing about women that were brutalized… Raped… Beaten… Killed… Left to die…" Another sigh escaped her. "A woman with her two kids came to the shelter today. She was from Candor. _Candor!_ And she came _all-the-way down_ to our little hippie-hillbilly paradise to get away from her husband. A husband, who, by the way had beaten the shit out of her, on the night before. _In front of her kids_. Then… Today, I read in the Gazette that a woman's body was found near the Dauntless train's home station. She was a born, faction-less woman, who was possibly killed by her customer." A husky breath was spat from her lips. "I'm… Just… Tired." Her head bowed forward, willing her tears to escape from the very narrow seams of her eyelids. She opened her eyes and a few more tears were exposed to the bedroom's stagnant air. Fingers traveled to the cheeks and proceeded to dry them. "Besides… I am going to sound like the kook that I've always been accused of being, but, ummm…" She sniffled. "When I saw you…" Lila turned her head and she glanced at her nephew, from over her left shoulder. "…Goliath, snatch her up and choke her out… I heard Nassy. _Clear as a bell!_ I heard her tell me to stop you. She told me to stop you from killing…" She glanced down at the sleeping woman again. "… _her_. It was as if your sister was standing next to me."

" _Oh… Come on_!" scoffed Howie, in disbelief.

Lila stared at her son. "I don't know this girl, from Adam. But I caught one of my feelings…"

Howie blew a raspberry, as an act of disbelief. " _Your feelings! Yeah, right_!"

" _Yes!_ _One of my feelings!_ I felt one of my feelings! I felt it, first, the moment that I saw this woman in his truck! I ignored it. I was angry at her. Then, it faded just as quickly. I should've known that something was up, then," she told her son. She glanced over her left shoulder again to take a gander of the blur of golden–brown skin again. "I should've told you to get your tail on and leave her here," she confessed.

"Anissa Howard," her nephew said in response.

" _What_?" she said softly.

" _Her name_ … It's 'Anissa Howard," he informed his aunt.

Lila looked away and stared down at the girl. " _Anissa, huh_?" A gloved, fingertip lightly grazed and outline an arch eyebrow on Anissa's face. Lila clicked her teeth. "Don't like the name," she muttered. "It sounds like her mama was trying too hard to give this child a glamorous name, in hopes of _getting_ a glamourous lifestyle..." She reached for the tube of ointment again. "…I've seen plenty of those women…" Her slicked fingers reached for a cut that graced her scalp. "…I've seen them when they first entered the Gen-Pop and as they walked through the doors at the Women's Shelter. They all have been through it, after searching for that _'glamourous life'_. All that glitters ain't gold." Her fingers reached for the injured woman's left cheek. Lila's gray orbs provided a full sweep of the face. "She needs a new name," she told both men. She glanced at her son. "She can't stay in Amity without having a new identity. I know… _One of y'all_ can change names and make up new identities in the Bureau of Records."

Howie released a sharp exhale. " _Do you even hear yourself, woman?!_ You're over here sounding like you're _freaking, Ma Baker or something_!"

A low groan escaped the hulking man, who has been silent for most of his time. Another low, purring-like groan escaped from him. "Evangeline."

"Wha…?"

" _What,_ honey?"

Both mother and son had spoken their inquiries, at the same time.

Goliath Junior lifted his elbows from off of his knees and he straightened his back. He rolled his brawny shoulders thrice. "I said… _Evangeline_ ," he groaned. An imposing, right eye glanced over his right shoulder to stare at his aunt and cousin. "That should be her name. Evangeline," the Grant son broadcasted.

 _'Ah...Van… Gel… Leen… Mmmm_ …' Lila turned away from her nephew and she glanced down at her patient. "I… _I like that name_ , Goliath. That's a good one," she remarked. Her right hand reached down and placed a nurturing grasp on the woman's cheek. " _Evangeline_ … It fits."

"By the way…" Goliath Junior groaned before lifting off of the bed. His towering arms reached to the ceiling and performed a stretch. A boisterous, groan of content escaped from his barreled chest. Once the loud, purr-of-a-groan died down, he looked at his mother's sister. "As long as she stays here, then I am staying here," he announced. "I don't trust her. Don't worry...I'm not staying here, so I could change your mind. I am not going to bother to try to change your mind, because… _You're not_ …"

"Damn straight," the woman murmured while staring at her nephew. A tight-lipped smile adorned her face.

"…But I'm not going to leave you here, by yourself. But, I am going to promise you... If she tries something, _then I will_ kill her, Auntie," Goliath warned.

" _What?! You're going to stay...Here?!"_ Howie muttered, in disbelief. "What…? What about your job? What about being in Dauntless? It's against the rules!"

"But.. _You're here_ ," Goliath Junior disputed.

"It's _different_ , Gee!" Howie pointed out. "I'm... I'm some low-level, pencil-pusher at the precinct. You're... Y-Y-You work from out of the _Defense Department_! Isn't that some kind of 'secret mission-Special Ops' kind of shit?! Aren't they…? Aren't they going to miss you or something?" he asked his cousin.

"No…" Goliath answered, with a shake of his head. "…Not really. I have a real… _Lenient, work schedule,"_ he reported with a broad and toothy grin.

"Wha-What do you do over there, if you have a _'lenient, work schedule'_?" asked a subtly bewildered, Howie.

"In simple terms… I get rid of problems and I find ways to get questions, answered," the towering man explained.

"What...? What does-?

"I search for people and then I interrogate them by torturing them. And if it's been ordered... I kill them," the hulking man explained, in a nonchalant manner.

A slow, gasp of shock entered Evangeline's new bedroom.

Lila's eyes remained locked on Anissa as she listened to the men's conversation. " _Evangeline_ …" she whispered. "…That's a fine-damn-name."

'Don't disappoint me, Evangeline.'

 **THE END.**

* * *

SOOOOO... THIS IS IT, YOU GUYS! THIS HERE IS THE END OF "WAITING IN THE VOID"! YAYYYYYY!

FYI, IN CASE SOME OF YOU READERS ARE CONFUSED: THERE IS ONE MORE STORY FOR THE "ERIC AND NASIRA" SERIES (I STILL HAVE TO FIND A CLEVER NAME FOR THE SERIES... IF YOU CAN THINK OF ANY, THEN DROP ME A MESSAGE ON THE REVIEW BOARD OR IN A PM).

FOR THE FINAL ONE: I WAS THINKING OF COMITTING TO A TALE OF ONE-SHOTS, TOLD FROM BOTH ERIC'S AND NASIRA'S POINT OF VIEWS. I HAVE A FEELING THAT THIS LAST STORY WILL BE LONGER THAN ANY OF THE STORIES THAT ARE POSTED ON HERE. I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO WRITING FOR IT.

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERY ONE OF YOU READERS, WHO HAVE READ THIS TALE. THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

NEXT UP... ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR "THE HOUSE WARD". COMING... SOON?


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